


Roommate

by startraveller776



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-10-01 19:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20378536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startraveller776/pseuds/startraveller776
Summary: Ten years after the Labyrinth, Sarah's friend sets her up on a date with the new guy from the office. Unfortunately, instead of a nice romance, Sarah ends up with an unwanted roommate.





	1. Blind Date

**Author's Note:**

> This is a repost of an old fic. I wrote Blind Date as a one-shot, then Roommate as a sequel. I decided to put it all in one place here. Roommate was also written as an answer to a challenge where I had to include certain elements. I only remember that"crystal unicorn" was one of them.

Sarah opened her door, took one look at a pair of mismatched eyes and a head of unkempt blond hair before she slammed it shut again without comment. She walked over to her phone, dialed her best friend and waited while it rang, gripping the receiver so tight that her hand began to ache.

“Come on, come on. Pick up, Tracy!” Sarah ignored the knock at the door.

Finally, Sarah heard her friend’s familiar voice. “Hello!”

“Tracy, you have some explaining to do!” Sarah said without preamble.

“…the Pritchard residence. We’re not able to come to the phone at this time…”

It was the answering machine. Sarah groaned as it rambled on.

“…a message after the tone, we’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Oh, and if this is Sarah. Get over yourself and just go on the date.”

Sarah almost threw the phone across the room in a fit of frustrated rage. She wanted to hunt Tracy down and strangle her with the phone cord. How dare she? Tracy talked her into a blind date and who shows up at the door? None other than the villain from Sarah’s childhood nightmare, that’s who!

Somewhere in the middle of her mental tirade, Sarah began to realize just how ridiculous her reaction was. Jareth had been a figment of her angsty teen imagination, nothing more. She'd never told anyone about the dream, so how could Tracy know to avoid setting Sarah up with slender, blonde, handsome men with mismatched eyes?

_Jareth is not real._

There was another knock at the door, and Sarah really wanted to laugh at herself, but she couldn’t. That dream had been so real, so harrowing, and her nemesis so three-dimensional that she had trouble dismissing it, even ten years later. She couldn't quell the foreboding that churned her stomach. 

Stop. Just stop. Even if he _was_ real, he had no power over her. 

That final thought cinched it. Sarah decided that she was going on this date, and later she would tell Tracy that she only liked brunettes and redheads—which was, of course, a lie. But she’d be damned if she was going to find a Jareth look-alike on her stoop again.

With a deep breath, Sarah opened the door. After her initial shock, she realized that while the guy was nearly the spitting image of the mythical Goblin King, there were differences. His blond hair was unruly, but it was short on the sides, the longer top falling loosely across his forehead down to the top ofone of his cheekbones. The pale brows over his mismatched eyes were not upswept. He wore a simple t-shirt and jeans over a pair of Dock Martins. It was an outfit she was sure Jareth, who personified masculine flamboyance, wouldn’t be caught dead in. Besides, the jeans weren’t nearly tight enough.

“Sorry,” she said, mustering a smile. “I thought you were someone else.”

He gave her a lopsided grin. “I’m glad I’m not him.”

Sarah blinked. The voice was right, though, down to the deep tone and British accent. She narrowed her eyes. “What’s your name again?”

“I’m sorry, I’m being rude.” He offered his hand, which Sarah noticed was not gloved. “I’m Erik Turner. And you’re Sarah Williams, right?”

She forced herself to take his hand. It was warmer than she expected. “Yeah, that’s me.”

His grin widened, and it was disarming, unlike the smirks and leers she remembered from Jareth. “Well, if you don’t mind my saying so, Tracy’s description of you didn’t do you justice.”

Sarah blushed, and she tried to hide it by saying, “Tracy didn’t give me a description of you at all.” _Or else I would have never agreed to this date_.

Erik winked. “I believe that works in my favor. No expectations for me to live up to.”

Sarah breathed a short laugh. He had no idea_._ She would be thrilled if Erik lived up to none of the expectations she had. She grabbed her purse from the small table by the door. “Shall we?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he said with that crooked smile. He led her down the steps to his car—an old burgundy Volvo. The trepidation in her middle began to subside. There was no way that Jareth would drive a car like this, even if he was masquerading as a mortal.

Erik noticed her staring at the vehicle and gave her an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry that I don’t have chariot befitting a lady such as yourself,” –he gave her a flourishing bow as he opened the passenger door— “but being a small business owner, I’m not exactly rolling in the money at the moment.”

The car’s interior was nearly pristine, and Sarah smiled. The resemblances between Erik and the Goblin King were growing further apart, and that suited her just fine.

“Come, come now, precious thing,” Erik murmured as he started the engine.

Suddenly tense, Sarah’s eyes snapped to him. “What did you just say?” Her tone was harsher than she intended.

He glanced at her, confused. “What? Oh, that.” His expression turned sheepish. “I was talking to the car. I’ve had her since I was a teenager, even shipped her over to the States when I moved here. I find that she starts up better with a little encouragement.” He cringed. “Completely bonkers, I know. That doesn’t make you want to leap from the car, does it?”

Sarah laughed, tension ebbing again from her shoulders. “No, not at all. It’s kind of cute, actually.”

Erik blew out an exaggerated sigh. “I can breathe easier now. You’ve no idea how nervous I am.”

Nope, not like Jareth at all_._ Sarah realized that she had a mental chalkboard keeping a tally of ways that Erik and her old nemesis were alike and unlike. She was pleased that the “unlike” hash marks were piling up.

Uncomfortable with the silence that fell between them, Sarah said, “So, you said you’re a small business owner, but Tracy told me that you work at her office.”

“Ah yes,” he replied, not taking his eyes from the road. “I’m really both. Working at the corporation pays the bills until I get my own little upstart running.”

“And what is your little upstart?”

“The internet is growing like mad, and I’m trying to capture a piece of it.” Erik glanced at her with a smile, before turning back to his driving. “My business is in granting wishes.”

“Wha—what?” Sarah stuttered.

“I mean, not like the fairy godmother,” Erik hastily added. “I’m setting up a website where people can post something that they’re wishing for. Others log in, and if they have the means and the desire, they can grant those wishes.” He gave her a long glance, as if gauging her reaction. “I plan on having advertisers fund the overhead costs. I’d like to keep it free for the wishers and granters. The idea is completely mental, isn’t it? That’s what everyone tells me anyway.”

Sarah wasn’t sure if this revelation fell under the “like” or “unlike” category. She decided to put a hash mark under both, just to be safe. “It’s definitely a unique idea.”

“Good or bad unique?”

Sarah shrugged. “I guess it depends on whether or not it works.”

Erik laughed. “A very diplomatic answer. Thanks for not saying outright that it’s utter rubbish.”

“No, no, no.” Sarah shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. It’s an unusual idea, but it could work.” She studied him, noting how he lacked the arrogant confidence that his doppelganger had.

As they pulled into a parking lot, Erik said, “I hope you like Italian. I found this hole-in-the-wall restaurant, and I can’t seem to get enough of it.”

“I love Italian!” Sarah didn’t mean to sound so enthusiastic, but the weirdness of everything had thrown her off her game—not that she was always cool, calm and collected around attractive men.

“That’s a win for me, I think.” He started to open his door, but turned to her. “Now you are going to stay put, right? And let me be chivalrous? I won't have you reporting back to Tracy that I was anything but a gentleman.” His tone was light, but it still hinted of a commanding personality hidden beneath the laid-back exterior. Or was Sarah merely projecting Jareth’s persona onto him?

For a moment, she considered asking Erik to take her home. She was getting a headache trying to figure him out. _Jareth is not real_, she reminded herself. “If you want be a gentlemen, then far be it from me to stop you.”

Erik flashed a brilliant smile, devoid of pointed teeth, before practically bounding out of the car. It was very un-Jareth, and Sarah grinned in spite of herself.

The restaurant was small and loud. The owner greeted Erik like an old friend, pulling him into a tight embrace and slapping him hard on the back. Sarah kept her distance, not wanting to be on the receiving end of one of those hugs.

“Ah, Erik!” bellowed the portly man. “Who is this _bella donna_ you bring to my humble establishment?”

Erik placed his hand at the small of Sarah’s back as he introduced her. “This is the lovely Sarah Williams who has deigned to spend the evening one so humble as myself.”

“Lady Sarah,” the owner said with a bow, “I am so pleased that you are here. I am Carlo Mancini. Once you take a bite of my cooking, you will never eat anywhere again!”

* * *

Carlo hadn’t been exaggerating. Sarah enjoyed every bit of her meal, and the conversation wasn’t half-bad either. The hash marks under the “definitely not the Goblin King” side of her mental chalkboard were piling up, and she found herself having a good time with Erik. He seemed genuinely interested in her work as an illustrator, and he made her laugh with stories from his job—stories that often featured him as the hapless victim of ridiculous circumstances.

Nope. He was nothing like Jareth at all.

Erik gave her his one-sided grin as they ate their tiramisu. It was charming in the G-rated Disney romance kind of way. “I’m pleased to know we’ve made it this far without the dreaded blind date disaster.”

Sarah raised her brows. “Oh? And what kind of disaster normally befalls you when you go on blind dates?”

“I’m not sure you were planning on this date lasting all night,” he said, his grin turning rueful, “but if you truly are demanding a recap of every less-than-pleasant blind date I’ve had over the years…”

“No, that’s okay.” Sarah laughed. “Although, I wouldn’t mind a few highlights.”

“Morbid curiosity, is it?” Erik winked. “I’ll make a bargain with you—tit for tat, if you will. For every harrowing tale from the realm of dating I share, I expect one in return from you. What say you?”

Sarah grinned. “It’s a deal. You first.”

Erik shook his head. “Oh no. I’m a gentleman, remember? Ladies first.”

“Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “Let’s see. I’d been interested in a guy for a while—he used to work for my publisher. One day, he finally asks me out. Just before the date, he called and asked if I could drive. That probably should have been my first clue.”

Erik leaned forward and rested his chin on his hands. “Do tell.”

“He directs me to the fanciest restaurant in the city, so I’m thinking he’s not so bad after all. He orders a bottle of wine—not the cheap kind either, and we dig into dinner. It was good, really good. The conversation, on the other hand, not so much. I mean, he was nice enough, but we weren’t really clicking.”

“I hate it when that happens.” Erik nodded.

“At the end the waiter brings the check, and my date says, ‘Do you mind?’ At first, I thought he wanted to split the check—which I was okay with since we were definitely not making a love connection.” Sarah shook her head. “No, he wants me to pay for it all. Says he left his wallet at home. The bottle of wine alone cost two hundred bucks! But it gets better.”

Erik snorted. “I can’t wait to hear this.”

“When I dropped him off, he said we should do it again sometime.” Sarah scrunched her nose. “And he tried to kiss me!”

“Pish.” Erik waved his hand. “That happens to me all the time. My dates always want me to drive, expect me to pay for dinner and then try to wriggle a smooch out of me when it’s all said and done.”

Sarah laughed. “I never thought of it that way before. But at least, you know from the get-go that you’ll be footing the bill.”

“Very true.” Erik flashed a wry grin. “I suppose it’s up to me to best your story. And I believe I am up to the task.”

Sarah mimicked his earlier posture, leaning forward on her elbows. “Do tell,” she said, imitating his accent.

He raised a brow. “Now that, my dear, was utterly charming.” He held up his hand with a dramatic sigh. “But no! I must not be distracted by your wiles! I am determined to beat you at this game.”

“Oh, so this is a game?”

“I adore games.” Erik’s grin turned into a smirk, and the image of Jareth popped into Sarah’s head. Erik frowned at the sudden change in her expression. “Does that put you off? You seem quite disturbed.”

“No, it’s just…” Sarah shook her head.

“Ah, let me guess,” he said. “I just reminded you of that other, nameless fellow?”

She nodded with a wince.

“Surely not the same man who made you pay for a two hundred bottle of wine?”

“No, not that guy.” Sarah waved her hands. “I don’t want to talk about him. You were about to try to one-up me on the bad dating experiences.” She smiled. “I have my doubts.”

Erik studied her for a moment, as if he was going to pursue the topic of his doppelganger. To Sarah’s relief, instead he said, “If you insist. Have you ever set your date on fire?”

She leaned back in her chair and laughed. “This ought to be good.”

“Not for me, unfortunately.” Erik’s expression became pained. “I was in Los Angeles a few years ago, and beach parties are all the rave out there. All of them end the same, with the ceremonial bonfire and roasted marshmallows. I fancied a girl, and it only took six months for me to work up the courage to ask her out. I decided taking her to a friend’s party was safe. Less pressure on me to be debonair, you know?”

Sarah shrugged. “I don’t know. I think you’re doing just fine on your own here.”

“All those elocution lessons and years in charm school have finally paid off, it seems.” He waggled his eyebrows, and Sarah laughed. “Back to my tale of woe, however… Most of the party went off without a hitch, and I believed that my chances for a second date were looking rather high. The bonfire started, and soon everyone had their marshmallows hovering over the blaze.”

“So where did your flaming marshmallow make contact on your date?” Sarah asked.

“So impatient, Sarah,” he said, laughing. “If you must know, it was her hair. Apparently she was fond of hairspray.”

“No!” Sarah slapped her hands over her mouth. 

“Sadly, yes.” He sighed. “And to top the evening off, I put the flames out by beating her with a blanket. Fortunately, she really was only a bit singed—lost only a few inches of her long locks. Needless to say, I did not get that second date. I haven’t been able to look at a marshmallow since.”

Sarah guffawed. She could picture some poor woman’s hair going up in flames and Erik whapping her with a blanket to put it out. “Oh, that was good. That was really good.”

“Care to top that one?”

Sarah wiped her eyes. “I don’t know if I have anything better. I did go out with a guy who, halfway through the date, told me he was Batman. And he believed it. He asked me if I wanted to see his bat cave.”

“Oh, damn.” Erik made a disappointed face. “And here I was all set to confess that I’m really a great sorcerer with my own kingdom.”

Sarah’s stomach dropped, the foreboding in her stomach kicking into high gear again. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Egads, Sarah!” Erik furrowed his brow. “I’m not serious.” He ran his hand through his hair, disheveling it further. “Wow. That joke was a universal flop. I’ll make a mental note to avoid using it again the future.”

Sarah tried to smile. _Jareth isn’t real. Jareth isn’t real._ Was she really going to throw away what was turning out to be a pretty good date over some stupid adolescent nightmare? Still, she put a few extra hash marks under the “Maybe he’s Jareth in disguise” category.

“Perhaps we need a change of venue,” Erik said, interrupting her thoughts. “Or have I already botched things too badly?”

“What do you have in mind?” she asked, still unsettled.

“Someplace public, I assure you.” He grinned. “I’d like to see if I can get your laugh back.”

* * *

The public place was a karaoke bar. When Sarah balked, Erik promised her that he had no intention of making her sing.

“Just think of how fun it will be to have a laugh at the hapless souls on stage,” he said as he ushered her toward the door.

He was right. Twenty minutes in, Sarah was banging her fist on the table, shaking with laughter, as some Michael Jackson wannabe tried to moonwalk while singing “Beat It” off-key. It was so bad, it was good. Sarah told Erik that she couldn’t get drunk enough to embarrass herself like that. He laughed.

“And now, we’re moving onto to my favorite part of the evening,” the DJ announced, “where I get to pick the songs.” He picked up a clipboard. “Our next victim is Erik Turner!”

Sarah turned to her date. “Does he mean you?”

Erik raised his brows and shrugged. “It would seem I have fewer inhibitions than you.” He stood up. “Now, I expect a thorough critique of my performance—especially one that ends with you lauding my musical abilities. Barring that, mocking is acceptable.”

Sarah chuckled as he made his way to the stage. She wondered what song the DJ would inflict on him. She also wondered if he could sing. He did have a nice voice. _Like someone else_. Sarah stifled the thought.

Erik threw her a sheepish grin as he took the microphone. He glanced at the small television and his eyes widened. “You can’t be serious!” he exclaimed, turning to the DJ.

The other man shrugged.

“Sarah love, this one is for you,” Erik said into the microphone. “May you look back on this moment with far less mortification than I will.”

The music started, a heavy guitar riff and then Erik was singing. “I love myself, I want you to love me. When I’m feeling down, I want you above me…”

Sarah recognized the song and felt her cheeks burning. A part of her noted that Erik could, in fact, sing. Really, really well.

“I don’t want anyone else, and when I think about you, I touch myself. I don’t want anyone else. Oh no. Oh no…”

Erik caught her eye and made a face before launching into the second verse. “I close my eyes, and see you before me. Think I would die if you were to ignore me. A fool could see just how much I adore you…”

Sarah laughed. He was really getting into it now, and so were others in the bar. People rose out of their seats, dancing, some even singing along with him. He was putting on such a good show, that it was hard for Sarah to remember that he was a computer nerd.

“…don’t want anyone else, and when I think about you, I touch myself…”

A drunken women in the audience yelled, “You can touch me, honey!”

Sarah lost it then. She couldn’t breathe, she was laughing so hard. Women were flocking to the stage now; even a few men joined them. Erik stepped back to avoid the sudden onslaught of hands reaching for him, but he didn’t miss a beat with the song.

“…I search myself, I want you to find me. I forget myself, I want you to remind me…”

“I’ll remind you!” someone exclaimed. Sarah was pretty sure it was a man.

Erik threw his head back for a grand finish. “I want you. I don't want anybody else, and when I think about you, I touch myself. Ooh, oooh, oooooh, aaaaaah.”

The crowd went wild. Several yelled for an encore. Sarah was still laughing too hard to do more than clap. It took Erik several minutes to get through the throng and back to their table.

“I think I was just molested by every soul in this place,” he said as he sat down. “I wish I could say it was a pleasant experience.”

Sarah chuckled. “What do you expect when you sing a song like that?”

He frowned. “As you recall, I had little say in my song choice.”

“You didn’t have to sing at all.” She pointed out.

“What? You expected me to turn away from a challenge?” Erik placed his hand against his chest, pretending to be stunned.

Sarah opened her mouth, but was interrupted when a perky blond sidled up to him.

“You sing soooooo good,” she slurred. The girl had clearly surpassed the legal alcohol limit.

“Thank you,” Erik replied. “Have a nice evening.” He glanced at Sarah and gave her a fake gag. Sarah giggled.

“You have the cutest accent!” the blond continued. “Do you, like, come here a lot? Because you totally should!” She was all over him, pressing her busty chest into his shoulder.

Erik scowled and shoved the girl back. “Have you no shame?” he asked in an angry voice. “Or is it intelligence that you lack? It is quite obvious to anyone with working eyes that I’m here with a date.” He stood up and towered over her. “And even if I hadn’t been, I can assure you that I would not be interested a dim-witted female such as yourself.”

The girl glared back at him. “You don’t have to be so mean about it.”

He gave her a flat look, his tone almost haughty as he said, “When it comes to the muck of humanity, I find that I often do.”

“Whatever, jerk!” She flipped her hair, flipped him something else too, and walked away.

Sarah stared at Erik with wide eyes.

He turned back to her, and seeing her expression, cringed. “That was terrible of me, wasn’t it?” He sat down. “I’m determined to ruin my chances with you, it seems.” He put his head in his hands and groaned.

Sarah didn’t know what to say—what to think. The girl obviously wasn’t getting a clue, and Sarah had enough experience to know that what Erik had said was right. Sometimes it took being cruel before someone finally got the message. She’d had to be pretty rude in the past, herself, to lose some idiot who wouldn’t give up.

Erik’s brush-off of the blond wasn’t what had disturbed her. It was the way he looked while doing it. His bearing had become regal, as if he were royalty being mauled by someone utterly beneath him. During his near tirade, all Sarah saw was the Goblin King.

The moment disappeared, however, as she looked at a very dejected Erik. He couldn’t be the same man that had forced her to run the Labyrinth. She wasn’t being fair to him, she realized, by being continuously suspicious of him. Jareth didn’t exist, and she needed to stop comparing Erik to him.

She patted Erik’s arm. “I don’t blame you,” she said. “She was really stupid.”

He looked up and offered Sarah a tentative smile. “Quite.” He put his hand over hers. “Though, I think it might be best to take you home before I really foul things up.” He leaned forward and continued in a low voice, “I’m hoping for a second date, you know.”

Sarah grinned. “It’s a distinct possibility.”

For a second, she thought his smile turned feral, but when she blinked it was his usual lops-sided grin.

* * *

On the ride back to her place, they swapped more bad date stories (Sarah won that round with a date that puked on her head during a trip to the carnival), and discussed what songs Erik could have sung if he had been able to choose (she giggled when he suggested “I’m Too Sexy”).

By the time he pulled up in her driveway, Sarah had all but decided she would see Erik again. Alarming similarities to Jareth aside, he really was a funny, engaging guy, and she’d had her fill of bad dates. Why should she let him slip through her fingers just because he was a tad Goblin King-ish.

Erik helped her out of the car and didn’t let go of her hand while he walked her to her door. His hand was warm and soft, and she kind of liked it.

“Did I pass?” he asked as they stood on her porch.

Sarah gave him a sly grin. “I don’t know. That song was pretty horrible.”

“Drat,” he said with mock disappointment. “Foiled by a DJ.”

She chuckled. “I had a good time. I might be convinced to repeat the experience.”

He waggled his brows. “I’m pleased to hear that.”

There was a moment of silence, and Sarah felt a tension grow between them—the pleasant kind that let her know she wouldn’t mind a kiss to finish the evening.

As if he read her thoughts, Erik took her face in his hands and leaned down. She shivered just before their lips touched. The kiss was chaste, but still left her wanting more when he pulled back. He gave her a small smile, and she realized it was rather alluring. There was definitely going to be a second--

He kissed her again before she could finish her thought. This kiss was not chaste. As his mouth moved against hers, she felt a fire ignite in her belly. He pulled her closer to him, nearly pressing the length of his body to her. Sarah gasped, and he took advantage of her open mouth, tracing her lips with his tongue. She wrapped her arms around his neck, using him to anchor herself against the tide of raging desire that washed over her.

It was the best first kiss she’d ever experienced. She was pretty sure it was the best first kiss in the history of kissing.

When they pulled apart again, she whispered, “Wow.”

Erik didn’t reply; he smiled down at her, looking like he might try to entice her into another lip-lock. Sarah wouldn’t object if he did.

A breeze ruffled Sarah’s hair, and she remembered they were on her porch. Still heady from the kiss, she forgot all of her first date rules. “Do you want to come in?” she asked. When he quirked a brow, she added, “For coffee, I mean.”

Erik's smile stretched wider. In fact, as she studied his face, she thought the smile looked a little self-satisfied. She brushed it off. He just gave her a damn good kiss. He deserved to gloat a little, didn’t he?

“Are you certain you want to do that?” he asked, still holding her close to him.

She drew her brows together in confusion. Didn’t asking him inside imply that she was sure?

“Are you certain you want to invite me into your home?” he pressed.

There was something about the way he asked the question that gave Sarah pause. Was he being a gentleman, one of those no-means-no guys who wouldn’t make a move unless they were positive it was what the gal wanted? He seemed to need a clear invite.

It was only coffee. And maybe a little more smooching. Harmless stuff. Although he gave her some unsettling Jareth vibes, Erik did not set off any scary creepo alarms.

“Yes,” she answered finally. “I’m sure I want to invite you in.”

His face split into a huge grin. "Then I accept.” He let go of her so she could unlock the door.

As soon as they were inside, he spun her to face him, gripping her around her waist, and planted his lips over hers again. He picked up where they had left off with the last kiss. Sarah had read the phrase “soul-melting” in stories before but had never experienced it until this moment. Where on earth had Erik learned to kiss like this? Was there a class for this? It was the perfect mix between slow burn and uncontrollable flame.

She felt her back touch the wall, and he pressed up against her. The innocent notion of sharing coffee was pushed from her mind; instead she was plagued with thoughts that involved far less clothing. She tried to cling to reason, to remember that she never, ever slept with someone on a first date, but it was so hard to concentrate, especially when Erik’s lips were now on her neck, expertly working her flesh.

Good grief, there had to be a school for _that_!

“Sarah,” Erik whispered as he nipped her earlobe. Her entire body flushed and was covered with goosebumps at once. “I win.”

“Mm-mm,” she moaned. He wins. Wait. What? She frowned, and pushed him back. “What does that mean?”

His grin was wolfish as he looked down at her. It was very…_Jareth_.

Understanding dawned on her. “No!” She shoved against him, but he didn’t budge. “No! You’re not real!”

He laughed. “I assure you that I’m quite real.” He traced his finger along her jawline, and she tried to turn away, angry that her body continued to react to his touch. “You really should have trusted your instincts, Precious. It’s too late for that now, of course.”

Sarah was reeling. “But everything you said on the date…”

“What, do you think I’ve never explored the Aboveground before?” He snorted. “You mortals are so easy to imitate.”

“Get out!” she yelled, trying to push him away again.

“You invited me in, don’t you recall?” He smirked. “I think I’ll stay a while.”

“You have no power over me.” She pounded her fists against his chest.

He captured her wrists. “That’s not entirely true.” He smirked, and if he hadn’t been holding her hands, she would have smacked that look right off his face. “Now that you willingly invited me into your home, I can come and go as I please.”

“But you tricked me!” She felt a cold fear mix with the still-burning desire in her middle. Curse her body for not getting the message that wanting to get naked with her nemesis was a big, fat no-no!

He cocked his head to the side. “Have I ever played fair, Sarah? You made a willing invitation to me. Whether or not you were aware of my true identity doesn’t matter. You said the words to _me_. Words have power. Haven’t you learned that yet?” He leaned down and breathed against her ear, and she shivered. “A kiss is another kind of invitation, precious.”

Sarah’s eyes widened as her fear spiked. “No.” The word came out in a hoarse whisper.

“Yes, Sarah. I won.” His lips were at her neck again.

Angry tears leaked from her eyes, even as the desire in her belly radiated to her limbs. She was battling on two fronts, Jareth and her traitorous hormones, and she was winning neither. “Why didn’t you just leave me alone?”

He pulled back abruptly. “Why?” His face twisted in fury. “’What no one knew was that the Goblin King had fallen in love with the girl.’ That’s why!”

Sarah’s brain felt slow, but something he said moments ago struck her now. _Words have power. Haven’t you learned that yet? _Words…words… She looked up at him. “I never said you had permission to touch me—kiss or no kiss.”

His eyes narrowed. “Still the clever girl, I see. What a pity.” He stepped back, releasing her hands. As he did, he transformed into the Goblin King—tight pants, wild hair, gloves, knee-high boots and all. He was more beautiful than she remembered.

Feeling bolder, Sarah said, “And I rescind my invitation for my home. Get out.”

His smirk was back. “A worthy, but futile attempt. What’s said is said, Sarah, and it cannot be undone. Remember?” He turned and sprawled on the couch. “I rather like it here. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before your intense desire for me overrides your defiant nature.”

With a shriek of frustration, Sarah grabbed the nearest thing she could find--a vase--and threw it at Jareth’s head.

He caught it with ease, laughing. “Really, Sarah. Is this how you treat all of your houseguests?” He clucked his tongue.

She glared at him. “I’m going to bed.” She gave him a wide berth when she passed the couch.

“Do let me know if you need someone to tuck you in, Precious,” he called after her.

Sarah slammed her door.

She was never going to forgive Tracy for this.


	2. Get Out

** _The problems with having the Goblin King for a roommate:_ **

1) He’s a slob_._  
2) He likes to hold impromptu dance parties when the mood strikes him_—usually in the middle of the night._  
3) His friends come over, trash the house and steal things_—namely socks._  
4) Glitter! Everywhere!  
5) He belts out bawdy songs while in the shower, again in the middle of the night.  
6) He doesn’t understand the meaning of "personal space." 

Sarah reread the last item and erased it.

6) While he understands the concept of ‘personal space,’ he refuses to respect it.  
7) Everything is a game to him, and he always thinks he’s winning.  
8) The pants.  
9) Seriously, the _pants!_  
10) When he looks at me, I can’t think straight.

Groaning, Sarah blacked out number ten. She was _not_ going to admit that while Jareth drove her to the edge of insanity there was a part of her that wanted to succumb to his unrelenting advances. Damn him for giving her those searing kisses before she knew who he was! Damn her body for wanting more—_lots_ more.

She crumpled the paper and pushed it aside. Making a list of all the ways her new roommate annoyed her was not going to help her find a way to kick him out. She grabbed one of the books (“Mellie’s Encyclopedia of Magical Creatures”) from the pile of thick volumes on the table and opened it. Before Sarah could banish Jareth, she had to figure out what he was. And that was why she was sitting in the library on a sunny Saturday afternoon.

She flipped through the pages of illustrations until she came across a depiction of beautiful beings that were almost human-like. Sitting up in her chair, she peered down at the caption. _The mythical Faerie_. Sarah’s brow furrowed. Fairy? Weren’t they supposed to be those tiny, winged creatures who granted wishes or something? Definitely not Jareth—at least the tiny, winged part. He certainly liked to grant wishes, whether or not a person actually wanted him to.

She turned the page and began reading about the Faerie:

_“Faerie: Also known as Fairy, Fae or Fey. Contrary to recent myths where fairies are tiny, winged creatures that grant wishes…”_

Sarah blinked.

_“…the Faerie are a reclusive race of magical beings that resemble humans, and they are known to be strikingly beautiful. It is believed that they are immortal, though that does not mean they are indestructible. Many tales say that while it is impossible for a Fae to lie, they will still manipulate words to their advantage. Some of the earlier folklore purports that the Fae steal children, and at times, the elderly.”_

“Ha!” Sarah’s exclamation earned her a glare from the librarian. _Oops_. She skimmed the page until she found what she wanted.

_“Weaknesses: The Faerie are susceptible to iron. The metal burns their skin, and if they ingest too much iron, it can kill them. Salt renders their magic useless. Wands made from Rowan wood will undo glamours…”_

“And what, pray tell, are we reading about today, Sarah?”

She squeaked at the sound of Jareth’s voice near her ear and slammed the book shut. “None of your beeswax,” she snapped in a quiet voice, trying to cover up the way she shivered at feel of his warm breath on her skin. Stupid, traitorous hormones! “Go away.”

“No.” He smirked when she turned to face him. Jareth was using what she called his Erik-the-best-blind-date-ever-until-the-end disguise, as he always did when he followed her around outside of the house. His shorter blond hair was still unkempt, falling in his eyes as he looked down at her. Sarah resisted the urge to reach up and brush it back. It was unfair that he could be so pretty, even while pretending to be a mortal. Pretty, but bad news in tight pants.

“I didn’t invite you here,” she said, keeping her voice steady and shoving away the memory of his lips against hers.

Jareth shrugged and straddled the chair next to her. (Couldn’t he just sit like a normal person, for crying out loud?) “I rather like the mortal concept of a ‘public place.’ The invitation is for all, including me.” He plucked the book from her hands and looked it over. “Interesting reading material. Trying to learn about the world you’ll be ruling over at my side?”

Sarah rolled her eyes. Since he'd taken up residence in her house, he’d been dropping that not-so-subtle hint all over the place. At first she tried to squash that notion right out of his head, but Jareth only laughed at her denial and redoubled his efforts to get her to “quit denying what we both know you secretly desire.”

“Speaking of ruling magical worlds,” she said, taking the book from him, “don’t you have a kingdom to get back to?”

Jareth grinned. “What is it you think I do after you slam that door of yours every night?”

“Don’t you sleep?” She frowned. The idea that he never rested unsettled her. 24-7 of Jareth’s magical mischief with no respite? Bad news, for sure.

“Of course I do.” He leaned forward, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. “Don’t you recall when I reordered time? It is one of my many _talents_.”

Two voices started chanting in her head as he gazed at her with those mismatched eyes. _Back up, back up, back up!_ And_, kiss him, kiss him, kiss him!_ Sarah squeezed her eyes shut and turned away in an unsuccessful attempt regain her bearings. Stupid hormones. Stupid Goblin King. _Stupid Tracy for setting me up on that damn blind date. _She could hear the rustling of paper next to her.

_Oh, no._

She opened her eyes to find Jareth examining the list she had crumpled earlier. “That’s private,” she said, blushing as she swiped at it.

Jareth held it out of reach and tsked as he read. “Really, Sarah. Must you be so harsh?” He stood up when she made another grab for the paper. “I bring color into that drab, dull life of yours and you think me a nuisance? What about all the benefits of having the Goblin King as your roommate? Hm? Where is that list?”

Sarah snorted. “Benefits? Ha! What benefits?”

The librarian shushed Sarah with another glare, and then smiled at Jareth before turning back to her work. Sarah threw up her hands and let out a huff of exasperation. That’s how it was when Jareth was out in public, stalking her. Everyone acted like he was the greatest thing since sliced bread—even when he hadn’t uttered a single word to them—and somehow all the trouble _he_ caused was Sarah’s fault. It was… She cut off the thought before the “N.F.” words crossed her mind—as in “not fair.”

Jareth was close to her again with that annoying smirk on his face. “Benefits that you have yet to take advantage of. Why you would deny yourself when I have so much to offer you is puzzling, indeed.” His expression turned lecherous. “And I do have so _much_ to offer you.”

Fat chance of that happening! She wanted to scream in frustration, but she knew the more she protested, the more he’d take that as a challenge. Not that _not_ protesting got him to back off—it just took less energy than fighting him. She didn’t even bother anymore to demand that he stop calling her all those pet names. Jareth gave a whole new meaning to the word persistent.

“And what have you against my wardrobe?” he asked, reminding Sarah that he still had her list. The expression on his face said that he knew exactly what she meant by items eight and nine_. Insufferable, egotistical, annoyingly sexy… _

Sarah scowled at him and made another try for the paper from his hands. He dissipated then reappeared on the other side of the table. “Give it back,” she said, careful to keep her voice low lest she incur the wrath of the librarian again. “Now.”

Jareth wagged his finger. “Manners, Sarah.”

“Please.” She hissed the word through clenched teeth, holding out her hand expectantly.

He wasn’t looking at her, though; his eyes were back on the list. “I wonder what you scribbled out here at the bottom.” He ran his finger across the blackened script and Sarah nearly leaped over the table to grab at the paper. She knew it was too late when she saw the smile that lit up his rudely handsome features. “It seems that you did write down a benefit after all, my love.”

Sarah felt her cheeks go from rosy pink to bright, glowing, could-land-a-plane-in-a-storm red in less than a second.

“I shall leave you to your studies,” he said, dropping the paper on her pile of books. “A queen should know her subjects.” He leaned over the table and lowered his voice. “However, the books in my library are far more accurate. I could take you there if you wish.”

She shook her head, keeping her mouth clamped shut for fear that she would start yelling.

“Pity. Perhaps another time, then.” Jareth vanished, and Sarah was certain she heard his laughter echoing in the quiet library.

She bought twenty canisters of salt on her way home.

* * *

“King won’t like this,” a little goblin said, crouching on the counter, wearing one of Sarah’s socks on his head. “No, no, no. He won’t like this at all.”

Sarah felt triumphant at the creature’s words as she spread the salt everywhere. She had started with lining the doors and windows with the stuff but then realized that Jareth could pop in any part of the house without crossing those barriers. Granted, she probably didn’t need to cover the tops of the cabinets, but one could never be too cautious when it came to the Goblin King.

When the last canister was empty, Sarah surveyed her work. Her entire house was covered in a thin, white layer of granules. If the book was right, this should render Jareth’s magic useless, and she could push him out the door. Having salt crunching underfoot for the rest of her days would be worth the peace and quiet she would gain from this endeavor.

“Uh oh,” the goblin muttered in his small, gravelly voice. “He’s coming.” The creature disappeared, leaving the sock behind.

Within seconds, Jareth poofed into the room in a shower of glitter. Sarah’s heart fluttered nervously as he took in the surroundings with a grim expression. She didn’t know if she should be exultant or frightened. The mix of emotions was familiar—like years ago when she saw him walking out of that archway before the clock tolled thirteen.

“Well, well, well,” he said as he advanced on her.

Sarah backed away, heart stopping when she touched the wall.

“What have we here?” His eyes were dark and menacing, and she realized then that while the she may have taken away his magic, it didn’t mean that he couldn’t retaliate in other ways.

Swallowing the nerves that threatened to overtake her, Sarah said in a steady voice, “Nothing. Does the mess bother you, Your Majesty?”

Leaning down, he took a handful of salt and rubbed it between his gloved fingers. When he straightened, he leaned his other arm against the wall above her head, his pretty face mere inches from hers as he studied the salt in his hand. Slowly, he brought his fingers to his lips and brushed his tongue over the granules. Sarah’s middle stopped doing flip-flops and instead started to burn as she followed his movements.

There definitely had to be a school for _that._

He raised a brow at her. “School? A school for what?”

Oh crap, she’d said the words out loud. “A school for learning how to seduce unsuspecting mortals.” Her hand flew to her mouth. Dammit! Why did she say that?

He bore his teeth in a leer. “Oh, is that what I’m doing? Am I seducing you, Sarah?”

She shook her head vigorously—whether in answer to his questions or to shake the steamy images that popped into her head, she didn’t know. “No. No you’re not.” Sarah pretended not to notice how breathless her voice sounded.

“Of course not,” he replied, the smile still plastered on his lips. “As for this…” He let the salt fall from his hand. “Personally, I prefer to use this to enhance the flavor of my food, but if you’d rather use it to decorate our home…” He flicked his wrist and every surface was covered in three inches of the white stuff—including Sarah.

“Not my favorite look for you, I must admit,” he said, walking to the spare bedroom.

It took Sarah a several days to get the salt out of every nook and cranny of the house. De-salting herself took nearly as long, and certain sensitive parts chaffed long after. Jareth, of course, thought it was all quite amusing.

* * *

The next week, he appeared at her side as she was cooking breakfast—in a cast iron skillet. Sarah figured that if the salt didn’t work, it didn’t mean that everything she read was inaccurate. Iron seemed to be the Kryptonite of nearly all magical species. Not that she wanted to _hurt_ Jareth; she just wanted to scare him off.

“Smells delectable,” he said next to her ear.

Sarah gripped the skillet handle with a potholder and swung it around. Jareth stepped back to avoid letting the pan touch him.

“Would you like some scrambled eggs, Your Majesty?” She felt a little wicked, jabbing the skillet toward him, forcing him to back away farther.

His face was somber as he held up his hand. A thrill of victory tingled her insides—until a gilded fork appeared in his fingers. He stabbed the eggs, scraping the pan as he brought up a bite. “Don’t mind if I do,” he said before bringing it to his mouth. The way he chewed… Sarah’s knees wobbled. For heaven’s sake!

After finishing his bite, he grinned. “Tasty. Though, I think it could use a little salt, wouldn’t you agree?”

Sarah resisted the childish urge to stick her tongue out at him, and instead, dropped the pan on the stove. “I’m going to work,” she said. “Add all the salt you want.”

Jareth laughed as she stalked to the enclosed patio that she used as her studio, grumbling each step of the way about stubborn, arrogant Goblin Kings.

There were only two places in her house that Jareth and his goblin cronies had left untouched—her bedroom (she’d rather not imagine what would happen if His Lasciviousness popped into her bed unannounced) and her studio. They were her only havens from Jareth’s innuendos and the goblins’ special skills at wreaking havoc.

Preoccupied with finding another way to thwart the apparently unthwartable Goblin King, Sarah didn’t notice something new in the room casting a large shadow on the wall, until she sat down at her easel. _What the…?_ She turned and nearly fell off her stool.

“JARETH!”

There in the center of her studio was a crystal unicorn—a _life-sized_ crystal unicorn.

Jareth appeared in a flash of sparkles, and leaned against the statue, crossing his booted feet. “You called, precious?” His billowing shirt did little to cover his surprisingly fit chest. Who knew that someone so slender could still be that... No. Stop right there. 

“Explain this.” Sarah waved a hand toward the monstrosity.

He smiled, patting the neck of the unicorn. “Do you like it? I thought to get you a live one, but they really don’t like to be caged.”

She ran her hand over her face and groaned. “What possessed you to do this? Why would you think that I would _want_ something like this?”

“You asked for it.”

She held up her hands. “Wait. What? I _asked_ for this? When?” Of all the loony, deluded stuff he came up with, this one took the cake.

He snorted. “Really, Sarah. I thought mortal memory didn’t start fading until late in one’s life.” He stepped closer to her. “Just yesterday, while you were sitting here, you said, ‘I wish I knew what a real unicorn looked like.’”

Sarah opened her mouth to object, but snapped it shut again when she remembered muttering that very sentence under her breath the previous morning. The one time she slipped up and used the forbidden words, he jumped on it like a lion on a wounded gazelle! The man--if that’s what he was--needed to learn the difference between the literal and the figurative!

“The likeness is uncanny, if I do say so myself,” Jareth said. “Unicorns can be seen roaming the forests in the Labyrinth from time to time. If you should need a more appropriate specimen for a life study, I’d be pleased to show you.”

If she hadn’t been nearly apoplectic with frustration, Sarah might have heard the sincerity in his tone. She made herself count to ten before responding. “I…appreciate”—she nearly choked on the word—“the thought, but could you…please…get it out of here?” She congratulated herself on managing to sound polite—sort of.

Jareth’s face went flat for a second before he went back to his typical smirk. “This is a gift, Sarah. If you don’t want it, then it’s up to you to rid yourself of it.” He vanished before she could tell him where to stick his “gift.”

Fortunately, the goblins were willing to help her push the _solid_ crystal statue into the backyard. (It only took four days to do it.) Much to her chagrin, Sarah discovered that it did turn out to be a useful reference, after all.

Jareth beamed when she broke down and gave him a grudging thank you.


	3. Date Night

The first month Jareth had invaded her home, Sarah ranted and raved until she lost her voice. The second month, she tried to ignore Jareth and the goblins completely while looking for a way to give them the heave-ho. Turned out that the Goblin King wasn’t a Fae, Sidhe, Imp, Brownie, Pixie, or any other magical creature she had studied. The third month, life reached a new kind of (crazy) normal for Sarah. She knew whenever she walked out of her room in the morning she’d most likely find Jareth sprawled on the couch, tapping his heeled boot with a riding crop (Sarah stopped trying to figure out what his deal was with that thing) as the goblins ran around, dismantling the house and the various items in it.

The morning conversation with Jareth had become routine as well:

“Sleep well, love? Dream of me?”

“Get out.”

“No.”

“Had to try.”

“It was a worthy, if half-hearted attempt.”

Then it was coffee, shower, and work in her studio. She had even gotten used to the way he could be so close to her without actually touching her. (He never broke that rule, though his raw sexuality and constant close proximity often tempted _her_ to break it.) Sarah was reminded of a younger Toby who would torment her by sticking his finger near her arm while gleefully chanting, “I’m not touching you! I’m not touching you!” Fortunately, her little brother had grown out of that game. Maybe the Goblin King would too.

Sarah stopped sketching and laughed. Jareth was probably centuries old—considering he hadn’t aged a day since she first met him—and there was no way he was growing out of anything. She put down the charcoal she was using, wiped her hands on the damp cloth hanging on the edge of the easel,and cursed when she saw what she had been absently drawing.

It was a ballroom scene, just like the one from her peach-induced dream, complete with her in Jareth’s arms. Only this time, she wore a more sophisticated dress—less fluffy. Her face in the image lacked the roundness of youth, and instead she looked more like a regal princess—maybe even a queen. Sarah’s skin prickled with gooseflesh.

She felt Jareth’s presence before he spoke, the heat of his body warming her back. Since the unicorn incident, though the goblins were still banned from her studio, Jareth had started showing up from time to time to watch her work. Sarah had grown accustomed to that as well.

“I was always fond of that particular dream of yours,” he said. “Your talent in the arts knows no bounds, Sarah.”

“It’s just a sketch.” She shrugged, reaching up to tear the sheet off and throw it away.

“Would you give it to me?”

Sarah’s first instinct was to say no, but it was a harmless enough request. It wasn’t like he was asking her to do a nude of him. Not that she ever would. Nope. Not even to see how well built the rest of his slender body was. Or to see if that bulge was… Definitely, definitely not.

“Well?” There was a hint of impatience in his voice.

“What? Oh.” She blushed and tore the page from the tablet and held it out to him. “Here you go.”

He disappeared as soon as he took it from her, and Sarah slouched in her stool. From the corner of her eye, she saw something that hadn’t been there before. A bouquet of honeysuckles sat on the small table next to her easel. How had he found out they were her favorite flowers? She grinned. It was sweet—in an I-live-with-my-stalker kind of way.

Since Sarah had begun to accept her new living arrangements, Jareth had seemed far less…villainous. She could see now that he was trying to woo her in his mysterious immortal magical being way, but to what end? Did he really want her for his queen? Or was this another game—one that was only about sex?

She could no longer deny that she was attracted to him. She could even admit that she'd never experienced this kind of yearning for any other man she'd ever dated. But attraction did not mean love, and while she might want Jareth's body (and how she wanted it!), she couldn't imagine running away with him to the Underground.

Unfortunately, despite her sound reasoning, it was still difficult not to want to give into Mr. Tight-Pants—not when he was living with her, tempting her at every turn. He was the flame and she was the helpless moth.

And that was why she had a date tonight. She needed to get out of the house, meet other _normal_ guys, and extricate herself from the web of raging attraction that Jareth was entangling her in.

* * *

Sarah took as many precautions as she could to avoid Jareth finding out what she was up to. She hated having to sneak around like this, but there was no way he’d let her go without reigning mischief on her night out.

“And where are we off to this evening?” Jareth said as she made for the door.

She didn’t lookback at him when she lied. “_We_ aren’t going anywhere. _I’m _meeting with a new author to discuss my next project. And by staying away, you are going to ensure that I don’t lose the job.” Before he could respond, she closed the door and leaned against it, trying to quell the feeling that she was betraying him somehow.

Sarah scoffed. Betray Jareth? He was the one who had tricked her! She was not beholden to him in any way. The niggling feeling stuck with her, though, churning her stomach as she went to meet with Brian.

Dinner was…_okay_. Brian was a nice enough guy, but he had taken her to out for Chinese—not her favorite ethnic food—and that was the first strike against him. He wasn’t funny and engaging like Erik had been (who wasn’t real, she had to keep reminding herself) nor was he clever and seductive like Jareth (who was all too real). Strike two. She found Brian to be, well, bland, but did her best to give him a fighting chance. At least he didn’t make her pay for dinner, or tell her that he was really some brooding superhero.

The next stop after dinner was the bowling alley. That looked promising. It had been years since Sarah bowled; she used to enjoy it with her high school pals. Maybe Brian would be less wooden after a few frames. He really was a decent guy. Solid. Not flamboyant, arrogant, spoiled, or mischievous. Brian was the kind of man a girl ought to want to be with. And Sarah was sure if she kept telling herself that, she just might believe it, too.

She had just taken off her shoes when she heard the familiar voice of her troublesome roommate. An odd mixture of relief and trepidation washed over her as she looked up to find Jareth in full Erik-the-best-blind-date-ever-until-the-end regalia down to the Doc Martens.

“Sarah? Sarah Williams?” He was wearing a lopsided grin, looking genuinely surprised to see her there. “I thought that was you.”

She pasted a smile on her face. If he wanted to play, then she could too. “Oh, hi! Fancy meeting you here!” Okay, maybe that was a little over-the-top.

Brian stepped up next to her. “Who’s this, Sarah?”

Jareth stuck out his hand. “I’m sorry, where are my manners? I’m Erik. Erik Turner.”

“Ah, hi. Brian Sanderson,” Brian replied, shaking Jareth’s hand.

There was an uncomfortable moment of silence, and Sarah gave Jareth her best I’m-seriously-going-to-murder-you-when-we-get-home-then-bring-you-back-to-life-so-I-can-kill-you-again glare. He winked at her in response.

“So, um, great to see you again, Jar—Erik,” Sarah said through her fake smile. “I’m sure you have some place to be.”

Jareth shrugged. “That’s the rub. I was planning on spending the evening with someone special, but it appears that she’s given me the slip.” He looked at Brian. “Don’t you hate it when that happens?”

Brian chuckled. “Yeah, it does suck.”

“I’m stuck without company for the evening, and isn’t it just fortuitous that I run into an old friend of mine and her…companion?” Jareth gave them both a brilliant smile to cover the faintly disgusted he look he had when saying that last word. “Would it be too terribly intrusive of me to beg you to let me in on a game or three? It would be a salve for my wounded heart.” He glanced at Sarah with a mournful expression.

Sarah blurted out, “No, you can’t!” the same time that Brian said, “Sure, why not?”

Brian turned to her. “Oh come on, Sarah. You and I can go out another time. I’d love to meet a friend of yours.”

“Yes, Sarah,” Jareth interjected, “you wouldn’t want to abandon your old pal in his time of need, would you, dear _friend_?”

Sarah looked back and forth between the two men, entertaining the idea of walking away altogether. “Sure,” she said against her better judgment. This was not going to end well at all.

Jareth sat down next to her, holding a pair of bowling shoes that she was sure he hadn’t been before. She gave him a scowl before slipping her own on.

“So, how do you two know each other?” Brian asked.

“Oh, Sarah and I have quite the history.” Jareth waved his hand. “We’re roommates.”

“In college!” Sarah cut in. “We _were_ roommates in college.”

Brian’s eyes widened. “You two were _roommates_?”

Sarah shot Jareth another dirty look. “It was totally platonic—“

“Except for that one night, right love?”

“—Erik’s gay!”

“If we’re being perfectly honest—“

“Let’s not.”

“—I’m not gay at all. I just said that so she’d let me stay at her place. It was the only room for rent near campus.”

“But I wasn’t attracted to him like that.”

“Really, Sarah. Let’s stop pretending that nothing happened between us.”

“I’m not pretending! _Nothing_ happened!”

“The lady doth protest too much, doesn’t she? She really is quite the minx once you get her motor running, if you catch my meaning.”

“He’s yanking your chain, Brian!” Was that desperation in her voice? Yes. Yes, it was.

Brian stood, gaping at both of them. “I think I’ll go find a bowling ball.”

“You were so not invited!” Sarah hissed when her date was out of earshot.

Jareth smirked. “Public place, remember?” With a wave of his hand his shoes changed from the Doc Martens to the appropriate bowling paraphernalia. “I’m not the one who has some explaining to do. Mr. Sanderson, whose illustrious career is to sell copy paper, is no author. He lacks the imagination.” Jareth raised a brow. “You lied to me, Sarah.”

She shoved away the guilt that spiked with his accusation. “I lied because I had to. You never leave me alone.”

“Oh, please.” He snorted. “Tell me that you prefer that drab fellow’s company to mine and I’ll disappear.”

“I prefer Brian’s company to yours.” The words came out in a tumble, and Sarah tried to meet his gaze to reinforce the sincerity she didn’t feel.

Jareth didn’t budge. Not even a hint of sparkly dust.

“Well,” she said, “disappear already.”

He shook his head. “A worthy, but half-hearted attempt, Precious.” He was playing the how-close-can-I-get-without-actually-touching game again. “You have to actually mean what you say.”

“You mean like when I wished Toby away? Because I _totally_ meant that.” She rolled her eyes.

Jareth laughed. “Oh, you did. Deny it until the end of time, but deep down you know in that moment you truly wanted him gone—no matter the regret you felt but minutes later.” He looked away, and Sarah followed his gaze to find her date making his way back to them. “But we shall have to save this discussion for later, when ignorant ears cannot overhear.”

“I see you two got your balls already,” Brian said as he walked up.

Sarah glanced at the ball return and found two sitting on the machine where there hadn’t been any before. One was huge, cobalt blue and sparkly—obviously Jareth’s. Hers was dainty and pink. Pink! She hated pink. 

“Yes, it takes so long for Sarah to discover what she truly wants,” Jareth said to Brian, “but in the end I think she made the right choice.”

“Uh huh.” Brian looked bewildered. “I’ll just put our names into the computer.”

Sarah kept up her fake smile as she spoke out of the corner of her mouth. “Stop it.”

“Make me,” replied Jareth in a low voice.

“Could you be any more juvenile?”

“I’m just following your lead, precious.”

* * *

Spending three hours bowling with her date and her magical stalker could possibly have topped Sarah’s personal list of most awkward situations of all time. It certainly wasn’t her best first date—that honor went to Jareth (under the guise of Erik). It wasn’t her worst first date either—that honor went to Jareth as well. The Goblin King was on his best behavior, for the most part. Brian seemed taken with him—no surprise there—and somehow managed to miss every double-entendre that Jareth threw in Sarah’s direction. She, on the other hand, didn’t miss a single one.

Sarah almost felt like a third wheel, the way the two men were enjoying each other’s company. In fact, Brian acted as if he were hanging with his best bud and his best bud’s girl. Yes, Jareth had somehow maneuvered the situation to his advantage—as always.

Jareth gave her a bright Erik-smile after he threw a second strike in the tenth frame. Sarah grinned in return, even though she was supposed to be angry with him for ruining her date. But he hadn’t _really_ ruined it, had he? Not when the date was turning out to be a snooze-fest—no offense to Brian. Jareth’s unwanted presence had merely spiced up an otherwise flavorless night.

Brian’s voice cut into her thoughts. “So, who’s up for another game?”

There was no way that Sarah was going to prolong this evening any further. “I think I’m going to have to pass,” she said, faking a yawn. “I’m getting a little tired.”

Jareth gave her a knowing smile. “It seems we wore the lady out, Brian. And I’ll admit that I’m ready to retire my bowling ball as well.”

Brian’s disappointment seemed more directed at Jareth than Sarah, and she had to keep from glowering. Yes, her date had completely forgotten that he was supposed to be wooing her and not angling for more guy-time with the charming Brit known as Erik Turner.

“I guess I should take you back to your car, Sarah,” Brian said. Oh good, at least he remembered that much.

Jareth spoke up before Sarah could reply. “Actually, Brian, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to have that honor.”

Sarah opened her mouth to object only to be cut off by Brian. “Yeah, I’m sure you two have lots of catching up to do.”

Jareth shook Brian’s hand. “Indeed. Thank you for understanding.”

Sarah made a strangled sound as Brian walked away without so much as an “I’ll call you later.” Not that she wanted to go out with him again—not unless she was suffering from insomnia—but it was the principle of the thing, for crying out loud!

“Now wasn’t that far more pleasant than your having to reject him for another date?”

She gave Jareth a flat look. “What makes you think I wasn’t having a great time with Brian?”

His smile turned smirkish. “You’ve already lied to me once this evening, Sarah.”

She wanted to deny it, but Jareth was right, and she wasn’t in the mood to fight—at least not about this. “Fine. You win. Brian wasn’t my soulmate. Happy now?” Well, she didn’t have to _like_ that he was right.

“Ah,the sweet flavor of victory.” Jareth offered his arm to her. “Shall we?”

Sarah stared at his arm as if it were a snake about to bite. It disturbed her that she wanted to take it, that it felt natural to be escorted by him. If she took his arm, was that an invitation, even if she hadn’t said the words? Why had everything become so complicated with Jareth? She missed simpler times when he was merely the villain, easily despised—a nemesis to be defeated.

Now… Now Sarah didn’t know what he was to her.

“Well, love?”

Sarah almost laughed with relief at the irritation in Jareth voice. It was comforting for an inexplicable reason, and it broke the tension of the moment.

“Let’s get me to my car.” She walked past him to the exit, not looking back to see if he followed.

“Oh, I have no intention of doing any such thing,” he said against her ear. How did he do that without touching her? “The night is young yet. We’re going to make the most of it.”

She nearly bumped his nose when she turned to face him. “I don’t think so, _love_. I’ll walk to my car if I have to.” Mentally, she cursed herself for speaking before thinking. Was she really going to trudge three miles to the restaurant in the darkness to avoid spending the rest of the evening with Jareth?

“Really, Sarah. You are stubborn to a fault.” He crossed his arms and frowned down at her.

She graced him with a smirk of her own. “For my will is as strong as yours, remember?”

“Thank you for bringing up such painful memories.” Jareth scowled. “Your thoughtfulness astounds me.” He took several steps into the parking lot before turning around. “However, I think that you’ll want to take me up on my offer, as your vehicle now rests in our driveway. Then again, they do say that vigorous exercise is good for the mortal body.”

Sarah did a quick mental calculation. Her walk had gone from three miles to nearly fifteen.

“Jareth! Wait!”

* * *

“Here? You’re taking me here?” Sarah stared up at the flickering neon sign. They were parked outside of the same karaoke bar that Jareth had taken her to on their blind date.

“You seemed to enjoy it last time.”

Sarah had to wait until he opened her door to reply. “That was before I knew you were…you. You know, when you tricked me.”

Jareth clucked his tongue. “You have such a long memory for perceived ills, and yet so easily forget my generosity.” He held up a hand when she started to retort. “Let’s call a truce for now.”

She pursed her lips, trying to figure out what new angle he was working. “Truce, then—for now.”

He grinned. “Shall we exchange a token to mark our tenuous agreement? A kiss perhaps?”

Sarah wagged her finger at him. “Nice try, Goblin King.” Good grief, but he was incorrigible.

Jareth shrugged and opened the door. They hardly crossed the threshold when someone yelled, “Hey! It’s Erik!” Within seconds they were swarmed by the people in the bar, leaving the singer—a woman who was screeching, rather than singing, a Janis Joplin song—to serenade empty chairs.

Sarah had to raise her voice above the crowd chanting “Sing! Sing!” to get Jareth’s attention. “They remember you from that one visit?”

Instead of answering, he offered her his hand. As the throng threatened to engulf Jareth, she hesitated only a second, reminding herself that she wasn’t giving him verbal permission. His warm, slender fingers interlaced with hers when she reached for him, and he began pulling her through the group. Once they were free, he didn’t drop her hand, and she found she didn’t mind. They had a truce, after all, right?

“All right!” Jareth raised his free hand and the bar fell silent—even the woman on stage. “If I sing, I’ll want your word that you’ll allow my lady love and I some privacy—especially you, Tammy.” He pointed to the buxom blond who had accosted him the last time he and Sarah were here.

“Hey, Freddie! Erik’s gonna sing!” one of the men yelled to the DJ. Sarah winced at the din of cheers that filled the small establishment.

Jareth led her to a table in the back corner, releasing her hand to pull out a chair for her. She looked up at him. “Tammy?”

“A woman who lacks the intellect to understand when a man would rather bathe in the Bog of Eternal Stench than give her a second look.” He glanced at the blond with disdain.

Sarah shook her head. “But you know her name…and everybody knows yours—or at least your fake name.”

He flashed a rueful grin, and with his Erik-the-best-first-date-ever-until-the-end guise, Sarah could almost forget that he was the Goblin King. “I’ve visited a few times since our first date.”

“A _few_ times?” Sarah snorted in disbelief.

“Duty calls, love.” He backed away, ignoring her question. “The same rules apply as before.”

“Rules? What rules?” Sarah called after him.

He cocked his head to the side. “I expect your critique to include rabid gushing and adoration of my musical abilities. Though, for the sake of our recent cease-fire, you might consider avoiding mockery.” He leapt on stage and murmured something to the DJ before taking the microphone.

Sarah wondered what he would sing, since he was in charge of the selection this time. Although, in retrospect, there was a very good chance that he’d had a hand in his song choice the first time. “I Touch Myself”? Oh yeah, that had Jareth written all over it. What was next? “I’m Too Sexy”?

The music started without any introduction from Jareth. Instead,his eyes were closed and his head bowed. The back-up singers on the track blared through the speakers: “_Oh oh oh ohh Little China girl. Oh oh oh ohh Little China girl._”

People in the bar started whooping and cheering. Apparently the song was a favorite, though Sarah wasn’t familiar with it.

Jareth brought the microphone up and fixed her with an intense gaze. “I could escape this feeling,” he sang, “with my mortal girl. I feel a wreck without my little mortal girl.”

Sarah had thought when he sang the Divinyls song his voice was sultry, but that was nothing compared to this. Chills swept over her skin as he kept his eyes on her, singing as if the sound of his rich voice could woo her into bed with him. It wasn’t far from the truth. Ugh. Dumb hormones. 

“I hear our hearts beating as loud as thunder. I saw the stars crashing down.”

The memory of Jareth’s castle in pieces, hanging in the air at their final confrontation flashed across Sarah’s mind with the lyrics. She remembered how her heart had pounded then. Did his as well? She shook the thought from her mind. This was Jareth, after all. The man’s picture was in the dictionary under the definition of self-confidence.

“I stumble in the Aboveground just like a lost owl, visions of crystal balls in my head. Plans for everyone—it’s in the whites of my eyes.”

Jareth stepped down from the stage and slowly made his way to their table, his eyes never leaving hers. “My little mortal girl, you should run away with me. I’ll give you everything you want. Give you Valentine evenings. Paint you mornings of gold. I’ll give you a throne to rule the world.”

He turned away and headed back toward the stage. “And when I get excited, my little mortal girl says”—he glanced back over his shoulder—“Oh baby, just you shut your mouth.”

A shiver went down Sarah’s spine. She looked down to make sure he hadn’t just sung her clothes off right then and there.

“He’s sooooo good!” Sarah jumped at the voice. Tammy stood next to her, holding a daiquiri that sloshed over her hand as she gestured toward Jareth. “I think he changed the words a little. Erik is divine, isn’t he?”

Jareth had made it back to the stage and was looking daggers at the blond even as he kept singing. “She says ‘shhhhhhhh.’ She says—Tammy, leave my little mortal girl alone. She says ‘shhhhhhh.’ She says—back away now, Tammy, or face my wrath. She says…”

Tammy snorted. “He’s a divine _asshole_, anyway,” she muttered before staggering off.

Sarah laughed. Divine asshole. The girl may be missing a few brain cells, but she nailed Jareth down perfectly.

Before the tinny back-up singers finished the song, people were yelling for an encore. Jareth held up his hand. “Maybe later, loves.” When protests rose from the crowd, he said, “You gave your word.” He handed the microphone back to Freddie and jumped off the stage with the grace of a dancer.

“I’m ready for my critique now,” he said when he sat down next to Sarah. “Remember our truce.”

Sarah rolled her eyes, but smiled. “I suppose it was better than ‘I Touch Myself.’” She was not about to confess that his voice had filled her head with thoughts that would make a sailor blush.

“High praise indeed.” He leaned back and propped his feet up on the table. After three months—nearly four now—of living with him, Sarah decided that it was physically impossible for Jareth to sit like a normal person for any length of time. Then again, there was nothing normal about Jareth, and he wasn’t really a person either.

Tammy took the stage and it was obvious that her song was directed at Jareth. “Turn down the lights, turn down the bed. Turn down these voices inside my head…”

Jareth narrowed his eyes and made a derisive sound. “Every time. The blasted girl sings that song every time.”

“’Cause I can’t make you love me if you don’t,” Tammy crooned. “I can’t make your heart feel something it won’t…” Sarah thought the blond would actually be pretty good, if she didn’t slur so much.

“How does it feel to have your own stalker?” Sarah asked, unable to resist the barb.

Jareth turned his mismatched eyes to her. “You can’t seriously be lumping me in with the likes of her.”

“Why not? You both have trouble getting a clue.”

“OH, my wounded heart! How much more must it suffer from your cruelty?” Jareth smirked. “You are forgetting one important distinction between myself and that rubbish on stage, Precious.”

Tammy was working up to her grand finale now. “I’ll lay down my heart and I’ll feel the power, but you won’t. No, you wooooooooooon’t….”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “And what distinction would that be?”

Jareth leaned toward her and dropped his voice. “Underneath your denial, Sarah, you want me, body and soul.” He settled back in his chair and waved toward Tammy. “Whereas I feel nothing but disgust for that pitiful creature.”

“That was for you, Erik, baby!” the blond yelled. Sarah cringed at the feedback from the speakers. “Call me…_please_. I love you!” Freddie had to wrest the microphone from her and escort her offstage.

“Wow.” Sarah turned back to Jareth. “What did you do to the poor girl?”

“Me? I’ve done nothing but discourage her delusions. I have used not one whit of my charm and charisma on her.” He tapped his chin. “Though, there is one thing I haven’t attempted.”

“What? Give her nightmares of you?” Sarah asked. “That would definitely make her back off.”

“Hm. Your suggestion has merit, but, unfortunately, those are not the kind of dreams I oversee.” He raised a brow. “I’ve no power over the silly imaginings of the subconscious.”

“You don’t?” Well, crud. She couldn’t keep blaming him for those rather erotic dreams she’d been having lately.

Jareth shook his head. “No. The dreams that I have authority over are the deepest desires of the mortal heart.”

His words washed over her with an icy chill. Was he playing her again? Or did that mean he could see every wish, every desire she had?

“These are on the house, Erik. Nice job tonight, by the way.”

The waitress walked away before Sarah could register her presence. She had been so engrossed in her conversation with Jareth that she had forgotten for a moment that they were sitting in a bar—a loud one at that.

Jareth picked up his drink—scotch on the rocks, it looked like—and took a sip. His expression was thoughtful. “I’m wondering if you would deign to do me a favor, Sarah.”

“Depends on the favor.” Sarah was still processing what they’d been talking about before the waitress had interrupted. She didn’t touch her glass of pinot noir. Drinking alcohol while in Jareth’s company was risky business. Who knew what kind of invitations she would toss at him without the benefit of her inhibitions?

“Would you mind at least pretending to be my lover?”

Sarah’s jaw dropped. “Wh—what?”

“To save me from the unwanted attentions of that drunken fool of a woman.” He gave her a pointed look when she balked. “I did rescue you from Brian. It seems only _fair_ that you do me the same honor.”

She narrowed her eyes. “If this is some trick to get me—“

“I assure you I am quite sincere.”

“—to give you permission… What?”

Jareth smiled. “This is no ploy, Sarah, as tempted as I am to abuse this opportunity.” He moved his chair closer to hers. “You don’t have to speak the words. I merely ask for you to…fawn over me, perhaps rest your beautiful head on my shoulder.” He glanced past her and frowned. “The sooner, the better.”

Sarah twisted in her chair and saw Tammy crossing the room toward them. The woman really didn’t know when to quit, did she? Sarah felt a stab of sympathy for Jareth, and the thought made her laugh. What a ridiculous notion—feeling sorry for her stalker getting stalked. And yet, Sarah did have the better end of the deal as stalkees went. At least her prowler was intelligent, witty, handsome, and damn sexy. Tammy, on the other hand, was none of those. The Goblin King deserved better.

Sarah laughed again at her questionable rationale. “All right.” She turned back to Jareth. “But only this once. Anything I do or allow you to do is not considered an invitation or consent of any kind—and no kissing. As soon as we leave this bar, all bets are off and we go back to the same rules as before.”

“Agreed.” Jareth closed the rest of the distance between them and wrapped his arm around her. “Follow my lead,” he whispered.

Sarah laid her head against his chest. It felt comfortable—not at all awkward—and that unsettled her further. Things were definitely changing between them, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

“Did you like my song, Erik?” Tammy’s speech was even more slurred than before. “I sang it for you.”

Jareth tightened his arm around Sarah. “As you always do, unfortunately.” The disdain was evident in his tone. “Tammy, do you remember Sarah?”

Tammy’s eyes flicked to Sarah then back to Jareth. “She came with you the first time you were here, right?”

“Yes.” Jareth’s chest vibrated with his reply. Sarah mentally kicked herself for liking it. “And do you know what Sarah is to me?”

“Your sister?” There was a hopeful note in Tammy’s question.

Jareth barked a laugh. “Oh, you dear deluded girl. Sarah is to be my wife, Tammy. Do you understand what that means?”

Sarah resisted her instinct to deny Jareth’s statement. Instead she snuggled closer to him, reaching up to hold the hand that rested against her shoulder. She was going to do her best to keep up her end of the bargain to hurry this along, and try not think too much about the fact that she felt so at home in Jareth’s arms.

Tammy’s face fell. “Soooooooooo… Sarah’s your…fiancé?”

Geez, the girl was slow. Sarah found herself as impatient as she was sure Jareth was. _Wake up and smell the rejection already, Blondie._

“Yes, but she’s so much more than that,” Jareth said. “I gave my heart to her—irrevocably and eternally. No matter how much cleavage you thrust in my face, or how many songs you dedicate to me, I cannot give you what no longer belongs to me.”

Sarah’s heart fluttered with his words. She couldn’t be faulted for that, though—not when he was being _that_ romantic. Any woman would swoon to hear those words. And Sarah was _not_ swooning. Besides, she reminded herself, this was all fake anyway—no matter how sincere he sounded.

Confusion washed over Tammy’s face. “But you’re not married, right?”

_You have got to be kidding me!_ Sarah’s exasperation reached an apex, and she sat up, fixing the other women with a death-glare. Jareth’s method wasn’t working; it was time to try the jealous girlfriend angle. “Don’t you get it? He’s not interested in you—he’ll _never_ be interested in you. Jar—Erik is mine and he’ll _always_ be mine. Is that clear enough for you?”

Sarah stood, jabbing a finger at Tammy. “Stay away from my man. Don’t sing for him, don’t look at him, don’t even _think_ about him when you’re alone in your room at night. If you make a pass at my man again—even if I’m not around—so help me, I’ll have him throw you into an oubliette for the rest of your pathetic life!”

Tammy’s eyes were as wide as saucers, and Sarah could see the fear in them. “Okay, okay,” the blond said as she backed away. “Message received, loud and clear. What the hell is an oubliette anyway?”

Sarah watched Tammy slink to the other side of the bar. “Good riddance to bad rubbish.” She plopped back in her chair and glanced at Jareth with a snarky comment at the tip of her tongue, but bit it back when she saw his expression. It was a look of unadulterated admiration and open affection, and it gave her another round of goosebumps.

“That was quite impressive.” He drew her to him. “And I daresay it worked. You have my gratitude.” He stroked his fingers through her hair.

“Hey.” She pushed against him but he didn’t let go. “Mission accomplished. Back to the old rules, buddy.”

His grin transformed into a Jareth-smirk. “Not so, Sarah. You specifically said our bargain ends when we leave this establishment, not a moment before. I intend to hold you to your word.”

Sarah surprised herself by laughing. She should be angry that he had found a way to trick her yet again, but she didn’t feel all that slighted. Besides, a girl could use a little innocent snuggle once in a while—even if it was with the Goblin King.

She stayed in his arms until last call, snickering at his dry wit as he mocked the tone-deaf singers onstage. If she was reluctant to let go of his hand when they stepped outside, well, so what? It didn’t mean that she was falling for him.

Right?


	4. Morning Surprises

Sarah woke the next morning feeling lighter than she had in months. Sunlight filtered into her room, and she was positive the day was going to be beautiful. Maybe she would take Jareth to the Farmer’s market for some fresh strawberries, and then a picnic at her favorite sketching spot.

Whoa.

Was she really considering a date with the Goblin King? A real, bona fide _date_? Was he manipulating her in some way, or was she coming by all this honestly? Sarah tried to figure it out, but really, who could be expected to think straight first thing in the morning before a cup of coffee?

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and slipped on her fuzzy _not-pink_ slippers. The house seemed quieter than usual, but that didn’t mean that the goblins weren’t around. In fact, the quiet was more worrisome, as it often meant they were being sneaky about their mischief. She’d have to deal with that too—_after_ coffee.

There wasn’t a goblin or chicken underfoot when she left her room and headed toward the kitchen. Definitely not a good sign. _Coffee first, then the disciplining of magical creatures._ She saw the top of Jareth’s hair over the back of the couch as she passed the living room into the kitchen.

“Sleep well, precious?” he said. “Dream of me?”

“Get out,” she replied by rote as she poured herself a cup of steaming java. The smell alone was invigorating.

“No.”

She took a sip—today was not a day for sugar and cream. Sarah needed her wits about her and only black coffee would do. “Had to…”

Her words dropped off as she looked around for the first time. The house was clean. No, it was _immaculate_—the way it used to be before Jareth and his subjects had moved in. And speaking of Jareth’s subjects, not a single one of them were in sight. Okay, this wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Maybe Jareth was being nice today.

“So…” she started to say as she went to join him in the living room, but stopped short when she laid eyes on him.

Jareth was not wearing his normal at-home attire of a poet’s shirt, leather vest, pants that left little to the imagination, gloves, and knee-high boots. He had donned his Erik persona, but instead of a t-shirt and jeans, he wore a blue polo shirt and tan Dockers.His shorter Erik-hair was even under control, combed and parted in the latest style. The look was Erik’s version of dress casual chic, and he was nearly as breathtaking as he was when he was himself.

Sarah was immediately suspicious. Jareth was never predictable, but this was so far off the new-crazy-normal radar, there was no doubt in her mind that he was up to something.

She was about to ask just what that was when he smiled at her and said, “You might want to make yourself presentable. We have company coming.”

Company? Her Jareth-alarms were flashing red alert. “Who’s coming over?” she asked, a sick feeling settling in her stomach.

“Your family,” he answered as if she should have expected no less. “This visit is long overdue.” He clucked his tongue. “Really, Sarah. You had them believing—how did Karen put it? Ah, yes. She thought you might have run off with the circus, since you haven’t spoken to them in months. I hear that your brother is nearly heartbroken.” He picked up a magazine and started leafing through it. “I invited them over.”

She gave him a dumbfounded stare as her brain registered his words. “You _what_?” Not waiting for him to answer, she made a dash for the phone. Maybe if she could catch them before they left the house…

“I expect they’ll arrive in the next few minutes or so. You really shouldn’t sleep in so late, love.”

Sarah nearly dropped her mug. The next few _minutes_? “You have to get out. Now.” There was no way she was going to explain Jareth to her family.

“I think I’ll stay—especially when your parents are so eager to meet your charming live-in boyfriend.” He looked up from the magazine.

“You…” Her eyes widened in horror. “You didn’t!”

He graced her with a wicked grin. “Can I be blamed for the conclusions your stepmother drew from our brief conversation?”

She found herself wishing she knew his middle and last names—if he had any—because screaming “Jareth!” at the top of her lungs would not be enough.

“You’d best hurry, Sarah.” Jareth winked at her. “They’re pulling into the driveway.”

Anger and panic made her want to alternately pummel Jareth and hide under her bed. “When this is over, I’m going to beat you senseless!” she yelled as she ran toward her bedroom.

“I look forward to it with bated breath.” He laughed as she slammed her door.

Sarah was certain that she set the Guinness world record for fastest wardrobe change, and she did it while calling Jareth every nasty name that had been uttered since the beginning of time. She couldn’t believe that she had been considering taking him out on a date before. Ha! It would be a cold day in the Sahara before she’d let that happen. Jareth was going to pay for this.

She heard the front door open as she was throwing her hair into a sloppy ponytail and rushing down the hall. She cursed when she stumbled over something, and glanced down to find all of her shoes piled at her feet. _That wily son of a…_

“Are you quite all right?” Jareth looked concerned, but Sarah knew better. “Perhaps you should keep your shoes in the closet.”

“Sarah!” Toby pushed past his parents and made a beeline for her. Sarah barely had time to steel herself before her eleven-year old brother ran headlong into her, wrapping his arms around her in a vice-like hug. The boy had grown a couple inches since she’d seen him last, and Sarah felt guilty that she hadn’t made time for him.

Toby let go of her and planted his hands on his hips. “Now where the hell have you been?”

“Toby!” Karen gasped. “Language!”

“Sorry, Mom.” Toby rolled his eyes.

Sarah laughed and tousled his hair. “I’ve been a little preoccupied the last couple of months. Forgive me?”

Toby pursed his lips. “Only if you promise to take me to Great America.”

Sarah snorted. “That’s a pretty high price, buddy. How about dinner and a movie instead?”

He grinned ear-to-ear and stuck out his hand. “It’s a deal!”

Jareth chuckled, and Sarah noticed that he was standing next to her. “Your brother is certainly a skilled negotiator.” He lowered his voice. “I wonder where he gets it from.”

Before Sarah could unleash a scathing reply, Karen said, “So, you must be Erik?”

“I am indeed. Erik Turner.” He shook both Karen’s and Robert’s hands, though Sarah’s father did not look pleased about meeting his only daughter’s “boyfriend.”

Everyone moved to the living room, and somehow, after Sarah’s family was seated, the only spot left was next to Jareth. Sarah kept the scowl from her face as she sat. She decided that it would be easier to go along with the ruse. Telling her family “Oh him? He’s a magical being that fell in love with me years ago and won’t leave me alone until I agree to become his queen” was not an option. Sarah wouldn’t have believed it herself, if she hadn’t been living it.

She was not, however, going to forget that this was the second time in as many days that Jareth had gotten her to play the loving girlfriend.

“How did you two meet?” Karen asked after an uncomfortable silence.

“Blind date,” Sarah said, hoping that would be answer enough. The less they talked about her relationship with Jareth, the better.

Jareth draped his arm across the top of the couch behind her neck. She stopped herself from giving into the natural inclination to lean against him. “Yes, her friend set us up.” He glanced at Sarah with a grin. “We really ought to thank her for that, shouldn’t we, love?”

“Yes we should, honey,” she replied through her phony smile.

“It is a rather humorous tale.” Jareth turned back to her parents. “To be honest, I thought I had botched the whole thing after the karaoke incident, but when I took her back to her place, she invited me in for coffee and that was that. Right, Precious?”

“In a nutshell.” Sarah’s cheeks were beginning to hurt from smiling so hard.

Karen beamed. She’d always been a hopeless romantic. “That’s so wonderful! Isn’t that wonderful, Robert?”

Sarah’s father grunted, his expression stern. “What is it you do for a living, Erik?”

_And thus begins the interrogation._ Sarah wanted to see how Jareth wriggled his way out of this. Robert had scared off many of her dates over the years, and she was counting on him to bring on the full inquisition.

“I own my own business—an internet endeavor, if you will,” Jareth answered. “I set up a website for granting wishes.”

“Hey.” Toby cut in. “Have I seen you before?”

Sarah’s panic came charging back. “No, this is the first time you’ve met Erik.”

“And how has business been for you?” Robert’s expression said that he thought Jareth’s business venture to be a dubious one.

Jareth was unfazed. “Quite well, in fact.”

“Maybe I saw you on TV.” Toby interjected. “Are you a singer too?”

Jareth laughed. “Singing is a hobby, but I’ve never been on television.”

“Sarah, honey,” Karen said, “you look tired.”

Sarah opened her mouth to reply by was headed off by Robert’s continued questions for Jareth.

“Just how well is business going, exactly?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“I know!” Toby nearly stood up as he pointed at Jareth. “You’re in a movie, right?”

Jareth shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not.” He turned to Sarah’s father. “To answer your question, Robert, I want for nothing.”

“And yet you need to live in my daughter’s house?”

Sarah felt a little smug at her father’s question. _Yeah, Dad! Put him in his place_.

“Is your name really Erik?” Toby’s brow was furrowed.

“Sarah,” Karen said, “you’ve got dark circles under your eyes. At your age you should really start thinking about taking better care of your skin.”

The conversation was spinning faster than Sarah could keep track of it.

Jareth smiled at Toby. “Erik is the name that I’m known by.” He turned back to Robert. “I spend much of my time here, true, but I still retain my residence.”

Karen started rifling through her purse. “I know a fantastic cosmetologist.”

Toby frowned. “But you don’t look like an ‘Erik.’”

“If you have your own place, then why are you shacking up with Sarah?” Robert raised a brow in disapproval.

Karen stood up and handed Sarah a pink business card. “Call her. What she does with skin is practically magic.” She waved a hand over her own face as she returned to her seat. Sarah looked down at the card and nearly laughed at the slogan: “Turn back the hands of time!”

“Truth be told, Robert,” Jareth said, “I’d much rather that Sarah lived at my place. However, she’s uncomfortable with the rather palatial feel of my home.”

Sarah’s head snapped up, and she reached over and gripped Jareth’s knee to get him to shut up. He grabbed her hand and entwined his fingers with hers, giving her a lopsided Erik-grin.

“Cucumbers will help with the puffiness around your eyes, honey.” Karen sat back down. “Try it.”

“You look more like a Jacob,” Toby said. “No, no. That’s not it.”

“Shacking up is still shacking up, son.” Robert pointed out.

Jareth nodded. “I agree that it’s not the best situation. I’d prefer that Sarah and I wed, but she’s not ready to accept my hand in marriage just yet.” He gave Sarah’s hand an affectionate squeeze.

Sarah choked on a squeak that tried to erupt from her throat. She squeezed his hand back, not so affectionately. Oh, he was a dead immortal. Dead!

“Marriage?” Karen asked with wide eyes. “You want to marry Sarah?”

Robert frowned. “After only, what? Three months?”

“Jared!” Toby blurted out. “That’s kind of what you look like—a Jared.”

Jareth gave Sarah a wistful look. “It feels as though I’ve loved Sarah for years.” He held up his free hand. “Never fear that I’m unduly pressuring your beloved daughter. I’m a very patient man.”

Sarah met his eyes, still smiling that fake smile, and tried to convey silently that he’d better quit now or his demise would be swift and imminent. He raised a brow, obvious amusement written on his face.

“Look at how the two of you are staring at each other! So romantic.” Karen practically swooned. “Oh, Sarah, why didn’t you tell us it was so serious?”

_Because it’s not!_ “I don’t know.” Sarah crushed Jareth’s hand. _Dead! Dead! Dead! _

“Do you have lots of pets?” Toby asked, still talking to the Goblin King as if he hadn’t heard the rest of the conversation. “You look like someone who has lots of pets—_weird_ pets. Chickens, too.”

“OH, Sarah, are you in love with Erik?” Karen’s face flushed with such a sweet, dreamy expression that Sarah thought she might get a cavity just by looking at her.

“Yes, Sarah”—Jareth’s grin turned diabolical—“are you in love with me?”

Sarah shot up from her seat. “Is anybody thirsty? I am!”

She didn’t wait for the others to respond before she bolted for the kitchen. It was probably not a good idea to leave Jareth alone with her family, but she had reached her limit in this insane asylum masquerading as a family visit. Karen was on the cusp of scheduling an appointment with a wedding planner, Sarah was sure of it, and her father was probably making a list of all the ways he could flay Jareth. (That Sarah didn’t mind so much—in fact, she might have an idea or two to contribute.) And Toby…

“I do believe the boy remembers me,” Jareth said from behind her. “I find myself inordinately pleased. He really was a delightful little fellow.”

Sarah spun around and fixed him with an accusatory glare. “You would have turned him into a goblin.”

“Perhaps.” Jareth stepped up to her. “But then, I wasn’t the one who wished him away. You seem to forget who the culpable party was in that scenario.”

She stabbed a finger at him, prepared to remind him of how he had kidnapped her little brother and put her through hell to get him back, but stopped when she realized that he was right—she _had_ started all of it. Damn.

He cocked his head. “Dear me, is the obstinate Sarah Williams finally acquiescing to the truth?”

Jareth, the man for whom the word stubborn was invented, did _not_ just call _her_ obstinate. Sarah’s moment of dawning understanding came to an abrupt halt as she moved right back to angry indignation. “I might have wished him away, but you didn’t have to take him.” Just who was culpable now, buddy? Huh?

“Is that what you think?” He placed his hands against the countertop on either side of her and brought his body mere millimeters from hers. She swallowed as he leaned down and whispered in her ear, “I am always bound by the right words, Sarah. Always.”

She trembled and closed her eyes. A voice in her head told her to pay attention—that he’d said something important—but all she could think about was how close he was, how delicious he smelled. She wanted to press up against him, twine her fingers in his blond hair, and kiss his socks off. Then she wanted to kiss other articles of clothing off after that.

“Gross!”

Sarah whipped her head around at Toby’s exclamation. Her brother had his hand over his eyes, his face pinched with disgust. She shook herself. If Toby hadn’t interrupted… Well, thank goodness for nosy little brothers.

Jareth didn’t look pleased at all. He kept his eyes on her as he addressed the eleven-year-old boy, his tone saturated with irritation. “Was there something you needed, Tobias?”

“I came to see why it was taking you guys so long. I didn’t know you were making out.” Toby made a gagging sound. He started to walk away, but turned back with a furrowed brow. “Hey, how did you know my real name?”

Jareth smirked. “You’d be surprised what I know, boy.”

“He knows because I told him,” Sarah cut in before the conversation could go any further. Jareth seemed to have forgotten that he was supposed to be Erik and not the great and mischievous (sexy as hell) Goblin King.

“Yes, she did.” Jareth’s face became the congenial Erik-mask again, and Sarah breathed a sigh of relief.

Toby nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer. “Your eyes are really cool,” he said to Jareth. “They kinda make me think of an owl.” He left the kitchen, leaving Sarah gawking after him.

“It would seem that I made a lasting impression on him during our first encounter.” Jareth smiled broadly.

Sarah snorted. “Well, you _are_ impressive, Your Majesty.”

“Quite,” heagreed, missing the sarcasm in her voice.

She laughed and shook her head. Typical, egotistical Jareth. Funny how his megalomaniac ways didn’t grate on her nerves anymore. In fact, he could be almost…endearing. Except for today. Sarah was still peeved about the family visit. Operation Goblin King Smackdown was scheduled to commence as soon as her parents and brother were on their merry way.

“Now, before we were so rudely interrupted,” Jareth said, drawing her attention back to his pretty face, “I believe you were about to ravish me. Shall we continue?”

Sarah became acutely aware that he was still nearly leaning against her, looking down at her with eyes that promised every carnal delight she could imagine—and probably some her little mortal brain could not even fathom. She shivered.

“Oh, are you cold, love?” Jareth leered. “If you’d allow me, I’d be more than happy to warm you.”

For three seconds, Sarah gave his offer serious consideration, remembering the way he had kissed her before. A little voice in her mind posited that he had given those soul-melting lip-locks under the guise of Erik and therefore, Sarah had yet to experience true Jareth smooches_. We must know if there is a difference_, the voice said, _for scientific purposes, of course. _

Sarah closed her eyes and seized the sliver of will power she had left to push him away. “We’d better get back out there,” she said, “before they come looking for us—again.”

He backed away slowly, centimeter by centimeter, his mismatched eyes fixed on hers. “Such a pity.” He conjured a crystal that morphed into a tray holding glasses of lemonade. “Do hurry, Sarah. Karen is most anxious to discuss our upcoming nuptials.”

Sarah glared at his back as he walked out of the kitchen, carrying the tray. Once he was out of sight, she sagged against the counter. Resisting Jareth was becoming like defying gravity—no matter how hard she fought, eventually she was going to fall.

Would it be so bad to give in? She didn’t know.


	5. The World Falls Down

Sarah should have been happy. She should have been prancing about the house in glee, but instead she was sitting in front of her easel, staring at the blank page before her, and had been for the last six hours.

The rest of the visit from her family hadn’t been much worse after she had emerged from the kitchen. Predictably, Karen continued to gush about Sarah getting married—the woman had been worried that Sarah might never settle down. Jareth worked Robert over with his charm and wit, and by the end of the visit Sarah’s father had softened toward the Goblin King. Sarah shouldn’t have been surprised—every mortal seemed to cave to Jareth’s Erik-charisma eventually.

The most unsettling part of the ordeal, though, had been Toby’s random outbursts, directed toward Jareth. He said things like “Do you juggle? You look like someone who could juggle big glass balls” and “Did you used to have longer hair?” and “I bet you like kicking things. Maybe chickens.” With every comment, Jareth would glance at Sarah with an expression that seemed to say, _See how magnificent I am that your baby brother would remember and recognize me, even when I’m without all of my majesty and splendor?_ Sarah, in turn, would give him a sickly smile that meant _Do you really think I want him to remember the night you almost turned him into a goblin?_ Karen had, of course, misinterpreted the silent exchanges and declared that the pair must be madly in love.

After the goodbyes—which included Robert’s grudging “Erik seems like a stable man”—Sarah had rounded on Jareth, ready to commit murder of a magical person, or at least assault in the first degree. Jareth had already returned to his wild-haired, tight-pants-and-knee-high-boots wearing, riding-crop-wielding glory, and was, as always, smirking at her.

“As much as the thought of you unleashing your fury upon my person causes me to quiver with anticipation,” he said, “I fear that I am called away at the moment.” He kissed his gloved fingers and held them out toward her. “Please save those thoughts for my return, Precious—particularly the salacious ones that crossed your mind in the kitchen.”

He disappeared in a cloud of glitter before she could yell, “Coward!”

That had been a week ago, and she had seen neither hide nor hair of him since—nor the goblins. The house had been serene, clean, and Sarah hadn’t needed to purchase a new toaster or rewire her entertainment system in days. She had forgotten what it was like to come out of her room in the morning, sip a cup of coffee in her bathrobe, and _not_ have an impossibly handsome, seductive man making off-handed remarks of a scandalous nature.

If Sarah was being honest with herself, she missed Jareth and the goblins. A lot.

She wondered how that had happened, how she had come to prefer the chaos that Jareth had introduced into her life. Just months ago, she'd been happy (mostly) as a semi-reclusive artist who had borderline OCD tendencies when it came to housekeeping. She'd been content (somewhat) before “Erik Turner” showed up on her doorstep, turning her life upside-down with goblins and generous helpings of sexual tension.

_I have turned the world upside-down, and I have done it all for you._

A chill went down her spine, and she set down the pencil she’d been holding. She didn’t like the direction that her thoughts were going. It was a direction that they’d been going a lot lately, especially since the mysterious absence of her roommate. No, it was best not to let her mind wander, or else she’d be forced to admit that she was falling in--

_Stop!_

She pressed her hands to her temples, trying to stay the errant thoughts. How could she even consider a serious relationship with a man who was at best a trickster, if not a completely villainous, and one who transformed wished away children into grubby little goblins? He was arrogant, stubborn, conceited, preening, bossy, unrelenting, clever, witty, handsome, exciting, sexy…

Damn her mind that was now following the path her body went down months ago! She ignored the twinge in the leftish side of her chest that seemed to say, “Hello! Heart here. Just saying I’m on the same page as Mind and Body.”

_That’s it!_ Sarah stood up and left her studio. She had to get Jareth out of her head.

An hour later, Sarah sat with a cup of chamomile tea in her hands, watching an episode of her favorite sitcom. She didn’t look up when a shower of glitter announced the sudden arrival of the formerly truant Goblin King, not wanting to show him how much she’d been affected by his absence. 

“I will never understand your predilection for that contraption,” he said, close enough to her that she could feel the heat of his body through her pajamas. “What is your fascination with these characters in particular? The angst between Rick and Rochelle is rather contrived and quite bothersome.”

“Ross and Rachel,” Sarah corrected, though by now she guessed Jareth's flubbing of names—any name—was intentional. He liked getting a rise out of people, including her—_especially_ her. “Where have you been?”

“My, my, is it possible that you missed me, Sarah?” She glanced at him, catching his pleased grin. “I thought you might have reveled in my absence. After all, that’s what you said you wanted. Had a change of heart, love?”

For a moment, she considered denying that she missed him, but she was so relieved that he’d come back, she didn’t have it in her to return the jab. She leaned into him, instead—now confident that initiating contact did not mean an permanent invitation—and smiled when he draped his arm across her shoulders without comment. Damn, he smelled so good. “You’ve been gone for a week.”

“Has it been that long? Time is different here.” Jareth inched closer so that she was lying against his chest. _This is home_, every part of her seemed to say, _you belong here_. “If you must know, I had a sudden rush of runners in my Labyrinth. The paperwork afterward was quite tedious. I would have delegated, but you know how goblins are.”

Sarah laughed, thinking of the little minions that had stolen her socks, taken apart her appliances, and held chicken races in her living room. “Are they… Were they children once?” she asked.

“Only my favorite goblins.” He held a gloved finger to her lips when she balked. “Do not judge that which you do not understand, Sarah. Never forget that things are not always what they seem.”

“Like you,” she said, looking up at him.

“Yes.” He grinned. “Like me, indeed.”

“What are you?” She’d asked the question before, though in the past, she’d add her own sarcastic suggestion: _What_ _are you, a glam-rocker wannabe_?

He narrowed his eyes. “Still thinking that you might rid yourself of me? I’d have thought you’d given up on that futile endeavor by now.”

Sarah sighed. While he was away, her head had cleared enough for her to remember what he’d said in the kitchen. She was fairly certain that she needed only the right words to evict him and his goblin groupies, probably something along the lines of “I wish you would get out of my house and back to the Underground, right now,” but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. After being without him for a week, she realized she didn’t want to kick him out—at least not yet.

Jareth held something toward her, and she stared down at a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream—her favorite.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“A peace offering,” he said with a shrug. “I’d rather avoid the sound beating you promised me before—unless it’s in the bedroom. I might be more amenable in that case.”

She raised a brow. “Are you apologizing for that nightmare of a family visit?”

Jareth laughed. “Tell me that you didn’t enjoy seeing your brother again. I apologize for nothing.”

She sat up. “You apologize for _nothing_? Nothing? Tra la la la?” She gave him her best Jareth imitation, smirk and all.

He played with a lock of her hair. “You have no idea how alluring it is when you mimic me. How I wish you’d let me show you just how much.” She shivered at the implication in his voice. “To answer your question, I have nothing to apologize for.”

Sarah crossed her arms. “Not even stealing Toby?”

“You wished him away.”

“How about making me run the Labyrinth?”

“Rules are rules.”

“You’re not going to apologize for taking three hours off the clock or sending the cleaners after me?”

“As you recall, you told me that the Labyrinth was ‘a piece of cake.’ I merely increased the level of difficulty to match your capabilities.”

“And drugging me with a peach?”

“Ah, but if I hadn’t, neither of us would have experienced that lovely dance.”

“I was fifteen.”

“Hence the reason you didn’t have a more _explicit_ dream.”

Sarah felt her cheeks burn. “How about sending the goblin army after me?”

Jareth waved his hand. “Were the fools truly a match for you, Sarah?”

“What about tricking me into letting you into my home?”

He smirked. “Do you expect me to apologize for something that worked in my favor? Everything I’ve done, I’d do again.”

“Even the snake throwing?”

“To see that expression on your face once more? Of course.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “You are such a rascal.”

“To the core.” He held up the ice cream. “I believe you are supposed consume this before it melts.”

“It’s…safe?” Sarah gave the bowl a wary look. She was having plenty enough _explicit_ dreams without any help from Jareth, thank you very much. Although their relationship was evolving, she wouldn’t put it past the unrepentant ruler to take advantage of her, if given a chance.

“You’re so distrustful, Sarah.” He laughed. “It’s perfectly innocuous, other than copious amounts of sugar.”

She reached for the spoon and took a hesitant bite, closing her eyes and moaning at the minty, chocolatey goodness of it. How long had it been since she’d had some? She glanced up at Jareth as she went for second bite, and paused at his expression. She’d seen desire in his eyes before, but it was always controlled, like it was a weapon in his arsenal for seduction rather than an impulse. The look in his eyes now was wholly different—wild, animalistic, hungry—and she knew with acute certainty that if he hadn’t been bound by her no-touch rule, he would take her right there on the couch. It was frightening and arousing.

As if possessed by some naughtier version of herself, Sarah brought another spoonful of ice cream to her lips. She took a slower bite, moaned louder and finished by licking the spoon languidly. She watched Jareth’s eyes roll back and his lips part with a ragged breath. He was suddenly over her, managing to avoid making contact, but close enough that she could _feel_ his rapid heartbeat rather than hear it. He brought his lips almost to her neck, ready to pounce should she invite him. Sarah’s mouth went dry.

“How you taunt me, you cruel thing.” He pulled back to meet her eyes, the overwhelming _want_ still written on his face. “I _will_ have you, Sarah—_all_ of you. Forever.”

He vanished, leaving behind the ice cream, glitter, and a gasping Sarah.

* * *

Sarah woke to the sounds of a blender on the fritz, chickens clucking, and Jareth singing. She smiled. The house had been too quiet last week, and everything felt right again. Was this what it was like at his castle? She was tempted to ask him to take her there, just for the day—maybe see some old friends. Knowing Jareth, though, he’d find a way to keep her there for much longer than that. _Not that it would be such a hardship_, the little voice in her head said. She didn’t argue.

Sarah threw on her robe and _not-pink_ fuzzy slippers, imagining what the throne room would look like full of goblins and chickens. When she stepped out of her room, she had to dodge a hen scampering down the hall.

“Sorry, Lady!” a goblin yelled as he chased after the bird.

Sarah chuckled. Yes, her house felt like a home again.

“Ah, Precious. Sleep well?” Jareth asked when she crossed the living room. “Dream of me?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she said to cover the heat that rose to her cheeks. She poured herself some coffee, trying hard not to remember the dream she’d had the night before. It had involved Jareth and her and ice cream, and it had been messy. Tongues played a prominent role. No, it was best not to think of that right now.

Sarah turned to head back to her room and nearly bumped into Jareth. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, lips curled into a leer. “Yes, I would very much like to know what you dreamt of.”

Naughty Sarah chose that moment to rear her mischievous head. “Well, if you must know,” she said, mimicking his accent, “it was quite delicious.”

He raised a brow. “Do tell.”

Rational Sarah flashed the “danger” sign—teasing Jareth was risky—but Naughty Sarah argued that he ought to have a taste of his own medicine for once. Rational Sarah agreed that it might be nice to get him back, but worried about the repercussions. Naughty Sarah said, _To hell with the repercussions! Let’s have some fun!_

“There was a lot of…” she paused, stepping closer to him, “…_licking_.”

“Licking?” he replied in a voice that was suddenly throaty.

“Hm-mm.” She closed the distance between them, almost touching him. “Licking _all over_.” She saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Honestly, your stamina was incredible.”

He flashed a feral grin. “You have no idea how incredible, love.”

“I can only imagine.” She leaned forward and whispered against his ear, “Brian seemed to enjoy your…_talents_…so very much.” Bad, Sarah. Bad, bad, Sarah. She pulled back to see his reaction.

Jareth stiffened, his grin turned into a snarl. “Brian!” he growled through his pointed teeth. “You dreamt of me and that imbecile…_licking_?” He looked like he caught a whiff of the Bog of Eternal Stench.

“You did want to know,” she said, walking away, trying to contain her laughter.

“_Brian_?!” Jareth yelled after her.

Sarah succumbed to a full guffaw after she closed her door. She could hear Jareth shouting, and by the squeals of delight from his raggedy subjects, she was sure that he was engaging in his second favorite pastime: goblin kicking. What had come over her? Whatever it was, it was worth it. Sarah hadn’t laughed this hard since…when? She’d forgotten how exhilarating it was to take Jareth on and _win_.

After her laughter was spent, Sarah plopped on her bed and looked at the bouquet of honeysuckles on her nightstand. It was the same arrangement that Jareth had left in her studio more than a week ago. She had moved the flowers to her bedroom after he’d been gone a few days, and she realized now that she’d done it to remind herself that the past four months had been real and not some chaotic dream.

She touched the petals and wondered if she was on the brink of losing her head, maybe her heart, to the recalcitrant man. He seemed so positive that deep down she desired him, but she still didn’t know for sure. She sighed, deciding not to fret over it for now. Sunlight and fresh air would do her a world of good.

Twenty minutes later, she emerged from her room wearing a summer dress and sandals. She ducked into her studio to snag a sketchpad and some pencils. Jareth didn’t pester her when she passed him in the living room. He was draped over the couch, covering his eyes with a gloved hand and muttering under his breath. Sarah thought she heard him say, “I’d rather kiss Hogwart than lay a finger on Brian,” but it might have been her imagination.

She wrestled her keys from a little goblin who grumbled about her stealing his pretty trinkets. Feeling pity for the creature, she offered him a piece of gum. He stared at it for a minute, then popped the entire thing into his mouth—wrapper and all. He gave her a crooked-tooth grin before scurrying off after a chicken that passed by. Sarah shook her head and laughed.

When she opened the door, Jareth spoke up. “And where are we off to?” he asked, looking at her over the arm of the couch. “Not another meeting with an ‘author’?”

Sarah came close to telling him that she was going on a second date with Brian, just to see how he’d react, but decided against it. She was only mildly cruel, after all. “I’m going to do some sketching at the park.” She hesitated then asked, “Do you want to come?”

If she hadn’t been looking at him, she might have missed the flash of surprise that crossed his face before he schooled his expression back to his typical smirk. “Of course.”

Something new fluttered in her chest when he joined her at the door, changing into his Erik persona. He held his arm out to her. “Lead the way.”

She took his proffered arm and smiled. “Let’s go.”

* * *

“What are you drawing?” Jareth propped himself up on his elbow and tried to peek over Sarah’s sketch tablet. They were sharing a blanket on the grass, Jareth lying with his body nearly molded around hers as she sat. The sky was overcast and the temperature mild for late summer.

“Oh, you know,” she said, pulling the tablet back so he couldn’t see, “just something inspired by my dream last night.” She laughed at the horror on his face as he snatched it from her.

He narrowed his eyes when he looked at her work. It was a sketch of the goblin she’d given gum to earlier. “Love, I can’t say that I’m fond of your sense of humor.” He handed the tablet back to her. “You captured Ograth’s likeness perfectly.”

Sarah glanced at him. “You know his name?”

Jareth raised a brow. “Of course I do. What kind of ruler would I be if I didn’t know my subjects?”

Sarah set her sketchpad down and hugged her knees. Jareth’s comment made her realize how little she knew him. When she was a teenager, he had been nothing more than a villain who had refused to give her brother back without a fight. And when he first moved into her house, he’d been a trickster, seduce, and downright irritating in his stubbornness. She’d always assumed him to be selfish and cruel, especially the way he treated the goblins, but the simple creatures seemed to adore their king.

“Such a thoughtful expression, Sarah,” Jareth said. “What are you pondering in that beautiful head of yours?”

Sarah shrugged. “I don’t know. Do you know all of them—the goblins, I mean?”

Jareth rolled on his back. “Some more than most, but yes, I know all who reside in my kingdom.” He grinned. “Even the chickens.”

She laughed. “What is it with goblins and chickens?”

“I’m afraid that was entirely my fault.” Jareth sighed. “Keeping goblins entertained can be troublesome. I introduced the first chicken races, and things went downhill from there.”

“Why are you their king?” Sarah asked. “You’re nothing like them.”

“Aren’t I?” Jareth smirked. “It is true that I am far more intelligent, and strikingly handsome. But think, Sarah. Am I truly ill-suited to rule over a race of mischief-makers?”

“I guess not,” she said with a laugh.

They fell silent and Jareth closed his eyes. Sarah studied his beautiful face, feeling a surge of something—guilt, maybe—as she realized that she had never given him the benefit of the doubt. Granted, he hadn’t inspired her to with his various tricks, but she’d never tried to know him, to understand why he behaved the way he did.

“Why me?” she asked without thinking.

He opened one eye. “Why you what?”

Sarah bit her lip. Did she want to know the answer to her question? Did she want to discover this was all a game to him with her as the prize. Was Jareth capable of real love?

“Do get on with it, Sarah,” he said with mild irritation. “I was trying to take a nap.”

_And there’s the Jareth I know. _She let out a laugh in spite of the nerves making her stomach do gymnastics. She took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “Why am I the girl that the Goblin King fell in love with?”

He closed his eyes. “You do know how to ask the easy questions,” he said with a snort. He paused then added, “I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

She tensed. “About what?”

He sat up and brought his eyes to hers. “I told you once that you were no match for me.” His expression turned rueful. “In all my years, I have never met my equal, until I found you.”

She wasn’t sure what to make of that. “So, any girl who beat your Labyrinth would have won your heart.” The thought bought a pang to her chest.

Jareth pursed his lips. “Sarah, use that clever head of yours. Is that how the story is written? That the Goblin King falls in love with the girl _after_ she defeats him?”

It only took her a moment to recall the words of the little red book. He was right, the narrative told of the king’s love before the heroine wished away her brother. “But I was a child,” she whispered.

“Indeed,” he said. “A child who I knew would grow to become a beautiful and formidable woman—my match in every way.”

Thunder boomed as if to punctuate his statement, and Sarah shivered. “It’s going to rain,” she said, overwhelmed by his confession.

After several long heartbeats, Jareth leaned forward. “Kiss me, Sarah.” His lips hovered over hers. “Just a harmless little kiss.”

Her breath caught, and her body flushed. She wanted to grant his request, but… “I’m afraid,” she said. “I’m afraid that if I kiss you, I won’t be able to stop.”

She could see amusement sparkling in his eyes. “Then don’t stop. Kiss me until the world falls down.”

_But I’ll be there for you, as the world falls down._

A dam broke inside of her, and all the emotions she’d been trying to ignore crashed over her. Memories flashed in her mind in rapid succession. She remembered how he sang to her in the ballroom, confessing his devotion. She saw the fear in his eyes when he pleaded with her to stay with him in the Underground, and the pain when she rejected him. He had given her an experience that had shaped the woman she had become.

And when life had become tedious, but before she knew she had been missing something, he had appeared again. He gave her magic, made everything so rich, so full of color that she knew she could never go back to her previous existence.

“I love you,” she blurted out, surprising herself.

He gave her an indifferent shrug. “I know.”

She threw back her head and laughed. He was so frustratingly arrogant, and yet she wouldn’t change him. Her laughter turned into a sharp hiss when he pulled her to him and planted his lips on her jaw. “But…” She swallowed; her mouth went dry as he moved to the hollow of her neck. “I didn’t say the words.”

“Oh, but you did,” he said between kisses. “You said the most powerful words of all.”

All argument fled from her when he captured her lips with his, showing her just how much better Jareth kissed than Erik. Holy smokes, he must have been holding back before! When she ran her fingers through his hair, he groaned against her mouth and pulled her down on top of him.

She felt something large against her thigh and gasped. “Oh!” She looked down at him with widened eyes.

He smirked. “Surprised, love? You did mention my _pants_ twice on your little list.”

“Yes, but…” Sarah gulped.

He laughed.

Lightening cracked across the darkened sky and rain began pouring down, drenching Sarah. Jareth, on the other hand, stayed dry. She sat up and pushed her wet hair back. “No fair.”

“I rather like this look for you,” he said, his eyes south of her face.

Sarah blushed and crossed her arms. “Cad!”

He grinned. “Always.” He gathered her into his arms. “Shall we go home?”

“Yes.” She started to stand, but Jareth tightened his grip.

“Allow me.”

She blinked and they were sitting on an ornate four-poster bed that was definitely not in her house. The air smelled of exotic spices and magic, and she knew they were in his chambers in the Underground. Before she could protest, he kissed heragain, chasing sense from her—until a chicken clucked. In unison, they turned to see three hens nesting in Jareth’s bed. His face twisted with outrage.

“GOBLINS!”

Sarah fell off the bed, laughing.

* * *

Tracy came home to find the message light blinking on her answering machine. After setting down her keys, she pushed play, sure it was a telemarketer. She was pleased to hear Sarah’s voice after the beep.

“Hey Tracy. Listen, so I was kind of a you-know-what about the whole blind date thing. Um, so—” She cut off with a sharp hiss. “Stop it! I’m trying to leave Tracy a message!”

A deep voice murmured in the background, “By all means, continue. You’re not distracting me.”

Tracy snickered.

“Anyway,” Sarah continued in a breathy voice, “I’m sorry, Tracy. You were right. Jar—Erik is perfect for… For the love of...! I can’t think straight when you do that, let alone talk!”

“You’re taking too long, Precious. I grow impatient.”

The rest of Sarah’s message came out in a tumble of words. “We’regettingmarriedI’llsendyouaninvitationsoonbye!”

The answering machine beeped to indicate the end of the recording.

Tracy shook her head and laughed. “You owe me, big brother.”

**~FIN~**


End file.
